Of Music
by Mikanis
Summary: Light is at the theatre, escaping from his life as he does every performance. Fate hands him her calling card in the way of a stranger sitting across the room. Can Light maintain his life when this one man manages to slip into it like he belongs there? AU
1. Chapter 1

AN- Oh, what to say about this one. I...felt like writing something pretty...something eloquent and beautiful. Meaning that it is ridiculously long, wordy, and probably going to bore half of you to death. It's not a one shot, but this was all written in one sitting. Really. Two hours, and this is what happens when my Muse slips a noose around my neck and says "WRITE, DAMN YOU!".

So yeah. Might turn Yaoi...none for now though. Don't expect my usual updating madness. This is different.

I do not own Death Note, nor any other famous piece of music/composer I mention in this work.

-Kani

Light was at the theatre. A full scale theatre, designed to carry the exquisite sound of classical music all the way to the top of the stadium seating. It was kind of theatre that hosted master performances every three months, and sold tickets by season. There were hardly many people here at the top balcony, but then again, there never were. Perhaps if the theater itself were of lesser quality, Light would have paid the extra twenty dollars or so to sit on the ground level. That was not the case, however, and he found he preferred his high spot any way. It allowed him to see every detail of the orchestra, for his high-caliber mind to anticipate the movement of the music, and he found it easier to lose himself to it that way.

Light only came here for the master performances, for the composers that sent ripples through the world of music, leaving their mark on everything that came after. He found modern day composers to be nothing but poorly inspired mimics, ears trained to a sound that existed long before their time, and thus doomed to repeat it. He came for the sake of getting away from everything, because here, for just a few hours, he could enjoy something that had nothing to do with his life. He could see a movie for less than a quarter the price, but nothing touched him like a full symphonic performance. He'd come the first time on a whim, dating some music major who was required to attend for class. He'd dressed the part, the elegant date, glittering in the perfection that surrounded his life, made up who he was.

He'd never come back with another, though he still dressed for the occasion. That first night, the opening piece had rattled him to the core…worked its way into his soul and left him breathless. To see, to hear the sheer beauty that the human mind was capable of, to see it performed in flawless synchrony…it was astounding. It took hold of his heart and trapped him there, in that theatre. He'd never come with another date, because he wasn't willing to share that. That music was for him, for people like him, people who understood what it was like to be trapped and suffocating in a world that didn't take the time to notice. Here, he knew, there was peace. Here, there was fluidity to life, time stood-still and held him close.

There were no words…nothing to lead him to thoughts of his troubles or his accomplishments. There were no lyrics, just raw emotion transmitted through the air, emotion he could feel through the soles of his shoes, rattling through his lungs with every indrawn breath. It was here that Light could forget who he was…he could make full use of his genius without any form of responsibility or need. He could be himself without worrying about others asking for his help, making demands. He could simply enjoy himself, take the time to notice the small things, pick apart every song, every concert until he found the pieces that made it up, and made it beautiful.

It was Debussy, he remembered…that wild and dramatic tone that marked the concert. Playful almost, alive and full-bodied, capable of lulling him half to sleep and then shocking him awake with a glaring crescendo. The face across the balcony drew his attention as the orchestra finished a turn. He glanced to the side as the violins rose to chins and stared.

The man was commonplace, his casual attire glaringly obvious in the dim light and sea of suits and tuxes. Government officials were present, their dates in glorious designer dresses and glittering stones. Students, dressed as well as possible, were seated together in small groups of five or six, some even taking notes. Elderly people, grandfathers, retired musicians…they were all in the same jacket and tie that Light wore, with buttons done and cufflinks shining.

He wore jeans, and a white shirt…he was barefoot. Perhaps that was what drew his attention away in that split second that the music was silenced. As the next movement began, he found himself glancing back, as thought to reassure himself that he was not dreaming. No…the man sat there, his bare feet on the chair's edge, his arms wrapped around his legs. He sat by the door, an elderly man to one side. Light felt a rush of anger, because how dare he? How dare he bring the sight of the mundane into his place of solace? How dare he remind Light that the real world existed?

At the third glance, his irritation faded. Somewhere between the orchestra and back, it just died completely, fell cold and useless in his breast. He supposed it was the look on his face, the way his large black eyes, almost a part of the shadows themselves, were glued to the orchestra with a familiar intensity. An intensity to rival his own…he could tell even from here that this was another person, another soul who reached into the music and pulled himself away from life desperately. Let him dress as he liked then…he needed this just as much as Light himself.

That first night, Light returned his attention to the music and spent the last of his two hours escape gone as usual, dimly conscious and deeply aware.

XXXX

It was months later, the next master performance, and Light was particularly excited about this one. He wore his best, and though he thought it ridiculous of himself to do so, he didn't change his mind once he'd laid the clothes out. Bach was his favorite composer, and the only reason he dressed so nicely in the first place was that he wanted to show respect to the great composers that granted him a few hours serenity.

He checked his tie and headed out, telling his family goodnight. He always returned late from his concerts, and if anyone remained awake when he returned, it was his father…usually working. Light would come home and generously fix coffee for him, help him review whatever case was scattered over the table that night. Light was always in his best mood after a concert. His smile was real, and easy, his movement fluid and relaxed. His father didn't understand the music's power, but he was grateful for it. He knew the hardships that came along with Light's gifts.

Light slid into the taxi and winced at the cigarette smoke that clung to its fabrics. He didn't mind for long though, because nothing could reach him on nights like this. He looked perfect, and he felt better. This, the theatre, this is what brought him alive. Much like opera, people either loved or hated a classical music concert. It either touched them, or drove them insane. Light knew well enough that it hadn't touched him so much as slapped him in the face. He made a note to thank that first date of his some day.

Almost before he could blink, he was sliding into his seat in the back rows, early of course. He watched the orchestra set up, crew in black suits moving the expensive and heavy instruments in as though made of fine spun glass instead of wood and metal. He held his breath as the harps were lifted from the dollies and set to the floor, praying along with the crewmen that it didn't shift and throw itself off balance. He watched the cello players adjust their stands and the bass drum player rearrange his tools, measuring the distance between each of the large drums. He smiled to himself as the violinists entered almost at the same time, like a flock of birds, and talking amongst themselves to ease the jitters of an opening performance. He flipped through his program, idly reading the director's biography, and the list of sponsors and players of note.

The orchestra was soon assembled and the fine tuning began; that mess of notes and scales that starts off every concert. It was the last chance to tune, straighten, adjust, read-through, and prepare. When the orchestra rose in respect to its conductor, this time Light stood too, feeling foolish but confident that no one would notice or care. A few students did as well, but they likely played at their various academies. No, Light stood simply because this man would be leading his favorite piece, and doing a better job of it than the orchestra at the university. It was simply a matter of professionalism. To the men and women at the university, it was a job or a grade. Here…at the theatre…it was simply a way of life.

Concerto in D Minor was led by two violinists, and they took their seats as the conductor made his bow. A moment later, a lifetime later, the music began, and Light found himself a smiling. The music was loud, powerful, and signature to this composer alone. No one else quite captured the same sound and magnitude with that grace and style. It was an ocean's storm, confined to a lagoon, a wild horse properly tamed. It was Light's piece, and he was basking in it as it carried on, thanking someone, anyone, that this was possible.

He wasn't sure when he first felt the stare, but it pulled at him just as surely as the music did. Towards the end of the first half, moments before intermission, he finally wrenched his eyes away from the musicians and answered it. The man…there across the balcony.

He'd almost forgotten, but he didn't care tonight. He returned the steady gaze for just a moment before returning his bright eyes and smile to the vast air between him and the stage. Let him watch…Light was enjoying himself too much to care. Intermission came and with a sigh of released tension, he slid down in his chair a bit. His grin was still present, though more subdued, and he felt as though he'd just won a game of tennis. The tremors in his body reminded him of a brief run, or something equally contained and stimulating. He loved this music.

The lights were up when he glanced over towards the strange character again. Just far enough to make out the details of his face, but not close enough for much else. Subtleties of the expression were lost in the gap between them, blurred by distance and the slightly elevated beat of Light's heart.

He was still there…still watching. The elder man next to him was talking, and he carried on the conversation while holding Light's eyes. Light was thankful when the lights went down again, and another brief warm up announced the concert's continuation.

It wasn't long until he was gone again.

XXXX

Light stepped out of his cab and shivered violently as the freezing rain hit his momentarily exposed neck. It ran beneath his collar and he sighed as his umbrella caught the rest of the winter storm, sparing him the chill. November was a bitter month in Japan, snow and sleet mingling harshly. Still, as he flashed his card to the entrance steward, he arrived early to the theatre, as always. Even the weather couldn't keep him from his escape anymore…it seemed that his day to day life was designed to drive him slowly mad. He wouldn't miss a concert for anything, especially since being named valedictorian.

Beethoven that night, and the wind howling outside the door brought a wry smile to his lips. He'd always considered the man's work to be slightly cold, gripping in its power and fierce efficiency. As he entered the stadium, he smiled as a grand piano was wheeled onto the stage, its owner fretting in the corner as the crew lowered it off the platform and to the ground. Light enjoyed concerts like this, where some refined tastes like the piano found a voice in the larger body of the orchestra. The woman nodded her thanks to the crew as her piano was placed without difficulty, and the last of the cold left him as she sat and began to play. The piano, currently the only instrument that didn't need prepping, was quiet, but even that carried across the wooden sound-support. Really, the acoustics of this theatre were marvelous. He felt as though he sat next to her on the bench, it was so close and well preserved.

This time he remembered, and glanced across the balcony. The strange man was not there tonight, and Light wasn't really sure how he felt about that. He found himself glancing across the room more and more as the audience filed in. The musicians set up, the tuning began, and Light flipped through his program again. They'd be starting with his 9th symphony of course…they usually performed the more famous pieces. Finally, as the lights began dimming, the side door opened and the man and his companion slipped in. Their eyes met across the distance again, and Light frowned. He turned his attention back to the orchestra as the opening bars rang through the silence, shocking the audience into obedient silence with its power.

They'd called this one of his more brilliant pieces, and Light tended to agree. It was a wonderfully sculpted bit of music, appealing to everything Light liked in his classical styles. It was powerful, well-thought out, nicely rounded, and subtle enough to hold his attention without droning on or giving him a headache.

He couldn't concentrate on it. He felt that stare turn upon him as the song ended, and it took all his willpower not to turn and glare at him. After a moment, the piano opened the next piece, a softer song, and the eyes finally left him. Almost against his will, it was his turn to look across, and he found the man with his thumb to his lips, his focus once again on the music. Strange really, the way he held his thumb that close to his lips. Light entertained the idea that he was sucking on it, like a child, but then shook the thought off. No…he was biting it if anything. He turned attention back to the music.

Not a damn moment later did the man look at him. Really, it was quite annoying, and the hand wrapped around his program tightened slightly. He again briefly considered turning to acknowledge him, but something, pride likely, refused to let him. Perhaps he'd looked back, but that was not his fault, and it certainly wasn't an invitation for the other to stare at him like this. It was unnerving to feel those dark eyes on him again. He refused to look. Refused.

XXXX

Three concerts ago, it had been annoying. Now it was downright infuriating. This man, this stranger, disrupted everything about his concerts, everything. His clothing, his appearance, his _eyes_…

It was frustrating, to have his solace invaded like this. He doubted it was intentional on the stranger's part, but he'd come close to ripping his program in half this concert. He'd been stared at all his life. He'd been ridiculed, admired, openly pointed and gawked at for the majority of his years because he was a genius, and a good looking one at that. People simply didn't know how to handle him. People approached him, and the second he opened his mouth, they would fall back, slightly star-struck at whatever witty comment he'd decided to throw at them. He took no small pleasure in driving people off with his biting sarcasm and tightly laced insults. Light was not an affable person by nature, and when he decided to be charming for whatever reason, that was precisely was it was…a decision. Few people were worth his time, he found…and while it was easier to keep up appearances and keep the resentment low, he found it tiring. Usually towards the end of his three month wait, in the weeks before his concerts, that's when he'd drop all pretense of being a nice person, and stop worrying about it.

This was an entirely different matter, because the man wasn't really _doing_ anything. He came to the concerts, took his seat, and enjoyed the music, just as Light did. He watched Light for about half the performance, but when Light had glanced at him, he still seemed lost in the music, he just happened to be looking in Light's direction. No, that was too general…he was looking at Light, he was sure of it. Just…not directly.

He'd started disappearing during intermission, though. That offered some relief, and yet none at all. The man got under his skin when he just up and disappeared like that. Light thought once that perhaps he was being stalked, but the man didn't reappear until the last second before intermission was over. Ten minutes of…being alone like that…began to bother him. It was completely ridiculous of course, because the only reason he came here was to be alone. To get away from everything he knew, and yet this person…this complete stranger, had managed to work his way into his routine. Something as distanced as the concerts lent itself easily to routine, because each event was subsequent, a stand alone deal that fit into the grander scheme, painting a picture of a typical concert. Now that idea had the added note of an awkward staring session between him and this black-haired bare-foot man that sat like an abused child. If not for the gleam of intelligence in his eyes, if not for his obvious adoration of the music, Light might have thought him retarded. The notion was shattered as quickly as it was formed, however, because there was no way on earth that was possible. Light just…knew that the man was like him. He knew he was beyond intelligent, possibly another genius.

Bloody hell, he was gone again.

Light had glanced, irritated with himself for even doing that much, and found the seat empty. Tonight he was anxious, after a particularly stressful semester and his father's sudden doubling in cases. He'd been promoted, and the extra workload was starting to wear on them both. Light stood, forcing himself to leave the program on his chair and for the first time in the two years he'd been coming to the theatre, he left the stadium during intermission.

He headed straight across the lobby to stand by the windows, looking out into the fall night. It was clear and cold, and the stars fought valiantly to be seen against the city lights. It was calming, to be this close to the frigid glass, so close that the coldness formed a line between the heated the air inside and the raw chill outside. He stared out at nothing, looking off down the street as officials and professors bought brandy and fine wines at the bar across the room. On a whim, he headed back to the stairs, ascending to the third floor landing, the floor below his balcony. He'd never left during intermission before, so he didn't want to be too far away when the concert lights flashed again. The landing was a foot away from the glass wall he'd stood before a moment ago, and now he could see over rooftops. A single car drove past, and in the silence of it, it seemed to bring the night's stillness more to the front than break it.

He felt a presence beside him, a reflection of white in the glass telling him who it was before he turned. He merely glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge the stranger, his concert companion. The man said nothing, merely came to stand next to him and share the view. Neither moved nor spoke, and though Light wanted badly to turn and demand an explanation from him, he didn't. He wanted to…he wanted to turn and rant and shout at this stranger, demand something from him, anything…an explanation on hydroelectricity would have sufficed. Recognizing his paranoia for what it was, however, he contented himself to ignore the person's existence…for as long as possible.

Still, when he finally reached his breaking point, turning to open his mouth, he was interrupted smoothly. The man's eyes were much more…disturbing in person, but the voice that came from those lips was anything but expected. It was young, as young as his, and quiet.

"The concert is starting again. We should return to our seats." Light watched him turn and climb the last flight of stairs, turning left at the walkway. Light followed, watching him disappear around the wing, and then turned right, heading to his seat. He glanced over at him only once as the secondary warm up began. He received a short nod, and then his dark eyes were back on the stage.

Well, damn it.

XXXX

Light left first, this time. He was out of his seat and in the stairwell before the majority of the guests had even made it to the hall. It was ridiculous, to feel this paranoid, to be this unnerved by a simple stare. He'd been tense, unforgiving in his satire and sadistic attitude. It was getting worse, until he almost dreaded his concerts as much as he craved them. The weeks before were hell on everyone he knew, and he really didn't give a damn. His escape was becoming his torture, and it infuriated him. This man, this stranger, was somehow managing to ruin his evenings.

He loosened his tie in irritation as people filed past him. Leaning on the rail, he waited, fully intending to break the silence tonight. Four concerts, four, and they'd shared intermissions here, in the stairs…just staring out into the night, watching seasons change, because time stood still in this building. He belonged in this world, even as a spectator, because there weren't enough people that truly experienced classical music. Thousands heard, but few hundreds understood. He supposed that he should feel some kind of camaraderie with the man, but all he inspired was this fierce uneasiness.

There, he was at the top of the stairs. Light didn't know how he knew this, but he did, and he knew every step he took after. The murmur of the crowd died as they descended, meeting with old friends and old coworkers on the bottom floor. The stranger came to stand next to him. He never stood straight, his back curved, making him shorter than Light. It was a lie, however, because Light was sure they were close to the same height. His hands were in his pockets, the dark circles under his eyes vicious in the moonlight coming in the window. Light wished he had the luxury of pockets and instead crossed his arms over his chest.

"You come here often." The man glanced sharply at him, surprised he'd broken their silent agreement not to speak to one another.

"Now that I am in Japan, I suppose. It took a while to find a theatre I liked."

"This is the only one in Tokyo that I come to."

"You seem the type to follow a routine." Light just nodded at that, refusing to look at the man he spoke to.

"Do you have a name?"

"I'd rather not tell you that just yet."

"…Fine."

XXXX

Damn the rain, damn November, and damn the bloody cold. Light turned his collar up against the wind and tried to hail a passing taxi. The fools were all but running from the people tonight…no one wanted to work in this weather. There was a limousine parked in front, but that wasn't at all uncommon. There had been a line of them when the theatre first opened its doors and the wealthy and the lucky came out mingled together in a single crowd.

The theatre was nearly empty by now, and Light wondered to himself why he never bothered to borrow the family car when he went out. He hated the subway, but that seemed to be the only option tonight. It meant he'd have to walk two blocks in the rain, then another five to get to his house. Damn it.

He glanced up when the man in white exited, surprised (and yet not) to find that he was still there. He watched, fully expecting his companion to open the door for him, and was surprised when the older gentlemen just took the keys from the chauffeur and got into the drivers seat. The man opened his own door and paused.

Light snapped his head away when the man looked at him, forcing himself not to pull his long coat tighter. He was freezing but there was no need for _him_ to know that. Light found himself wondering how he could just stand there, barefoot in the slush, and not even blink at the cold.

He knew, anyway. Light knew he would.

He glanced back to find a curious expression on his face, a slight narrowing of the eyes as he watched the younger man shiver in the rain. Another taxi sped past, and Light cursed himself for missing it. The man hesitated in the door of his limo, then stepped back.

Light stared. He merely raised an eyebrow and gestured into the black car. How infuriating…Light didn't need or…well, he wanted it, but he wasn't about to accept it. The wind picked up, whipping cold rain directly into Light's face and making him hiss in irritation as his cheek went numb. The man, who was standing there with his lips pursed as the rain took him full on, opened his eyes again and called over the storm.

"You're trying my patience. Just get in the car."

And damn him, but Light went. He slipped into the limo like he was born to this life, and he hoped the bastard noticed. Blessed heat came rolling from strategically placed vents and he moved down the long seat to the inside of the car. He was peeling off his long over coat when the man slipped in after him and shut the door, casting him an irritated glance. Light folded the wet fabric in on itself to minimize the water escaping to the leather seat. He set the bundle next to his feet and glanced up to find the man watching him again.

Infuriating….and he didn't even know his name yet. Almost a year now, and he was still a stranger, completely, and utterly unknown. Those dark eyes were both foreign and familiar, and Light couldn't help but feel trapped beneath them.

Finally, with a sigh, he put his feet on the floor and reached to roll his long pants legs up. Once the wet fabric was hidden away within itself, they were almost an appropriate length. Light chuckled to himself, earning another frown from the man. He reached over and pulled a hand towel from a compartment beneath the mini bar and Light's amusement doubled as he tried to dry his hair somewhat. He leaned back again and his hair was spiked comically, even messier than its usual nest. Light slung his wet, but still straight, hair out of his face and grinned. The man looked like he wanted to throw the wet rag at him, but thought better of it.

"Do you drink coffee?"

"Yes."

"Black?"

"Yes."

The man nodded and leaned back in his seat, reaching to the panel over his head. Light glanced over his shoulder, trying to peer through the driver's window, but all he could see was his own reflection in the black glass and dim lights surrounding the open space.

"Where to?"

"Coffee and then…" The man glanced down again. Light wasn't comfortable giving the man his address.

"The East Station please."

"Then to East Station and home."

"Very well then. And yes, son, I can see you." Light whipped around to peer at the black glass again, and a quiet chuckle came over the intercom. He waved blindly before turning back around. The warmth was amazing, and he was soon relaxing in his seat, ignoring the cold water dripping to his shoulders. The city glazed by the window in a foggy haze of lights and brief pauses. The man fiddled with the panel and Bach came over the speakers, Concerto in D minor. He gazed in surprise at the stranger, but the man ignored him, digging in the compartment for something. A box of cookies, it turned out, and he leaned back with a small smile, his hand already in the package. Light just shook his head…this man was almost insane. The dark eyes glanced up him, a smattering of crumbs along one cheek as he spoke. Light couldn't help but grin a bit.

"Bach is your favorite, yes?"

Light nodded. "What's yours?"

"Mozart." Ah, that explained a few things. Complicated, subtle, dizzying with its ability to draw the mind through its various emotions and leave it breathless with the dance. He thought about it for a moment…

"It almost makes sense."

"Bach suits you perfectly as well."

"How did you know?"

"It was in the way you smiled."

"Oh." Light shook his head. "Well…almost two years since we met, but at least I know your composer now."

The man shrugged, nibbling at a cookie. "If you consider meeting my eyes across three hundred feet of empty space an introduction, I suppose so."

"I'm not an overly friendly person."

"Nor am I. In fact I'm still wondering what you're doing in my car."

"Yeah…me too. Do I get a name now?"

"No."

Light hadn't really expected it anyway. They came to a stop, and Light reached for his jacket before he remembered that they were pausing for coffee. The man watched him, a thumb coming to his lips. Light was right…he bit it.

"I make you nervous." Light's eyebrows rose but he didn't deny it as he leaned back in his seat again. The strangers head turned to the side a bit as he regarded him. "You bluff it well, but you're very tense to be striking such a relaxed a pose."

Light rolled his eyes and stretched his legs out, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "Better?"

The man chuckled. "You're very arrogant, you know."

"Yes. I do." The door opened, and his reply died on his lips as he wordlessly accepted to cups of coffee from the older man. He passed one off to Light, and the younger man watched with sick fascination as a fistful of sugar packets were dropped into his empty palm. A murmured thank you and the door closed again. Light sipped his own coffee, and was pleased to find it strong and black, just as he liked it. It was a good brand, and he thought he recognized it, though he couldn't make out the café name through the tinted glass.

He took another sip, watching the man decimate fifteen sugar packs into his cup before commenting wryly, "You like your sugar."

"Your powers of observation amaze me." Light was almost offended until he realized the man was joking, his lips turned up in that smile again. He contented himself to sipping his own and staring out the window. Twenty, he found himself counting, went into the cup before he gave it a final stir and put the lid back on. He tapped the panel.

"Okay, we're ready." The limo started moving again, and Light could tell this was an age old practice between the two. He was curious, he had to admit, but he obviously wasn't getting any answers tonight.

An hour later, he was walking the five blocks to his home, soaked to the bone. Any memory of the warmth from the limo was distant at best, and if not for the rapidly cooling coffee in his hands, he might not have believed it had happened at all. H almost wished that he had given him the address, but he waved the thought off. It was smart of him not to; he knew nothing about the man. The urge was just him sulking because he was cold and wet. Nothing more.

XXXX

"Sit with me." Light glanced up to find the stranger next to him in line. His season pass for the last year expired, and he was in line to renew it now. The man stared at him expectantly, both hands deep in his pockets. He was bare foot again…

"Wouldn't they throw you out for that?"

"We have an agreement."

"An agreement."

"I sponsor here."

"Oh. You're rather spoiled, you know that?"

"Yes. Sit with me."

"What about your companion?"

"The spirit is willing, but his knees are not."

"Arthritis?" The man nodded, and Light moved forward with the line, regarding the stranger with a stare to rival his own. The dark eyes faltered, and he sighed.

"What do you want?"

"Your name. Tell me that and I'll sit with you." The man frowned at him, nibbling at his thumb again. People were beginning to stare, but neither of them cared. Light would have sat with him anyway if it meant an end to the staring. He was really just pushing the envelope to see if he'd get it this time.

"You may call me L." Light sighed, but supposed that was something.

"My name is Light. If I sit with you, will you refrain from staring at me this season?"

The man smiled. "So you were paying attention. I did not mean to stare at first, truly…it's just nice to know that some one else can appreciate the work the way that I can."

"At first? What about later?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd notice. You're quite amusing when you're frustrated."

"…Very well then." The man…L, as it were, reached forward and pulled him along as he left the line, heading for the stairs. Light snatched himself out of the grip at his arm. "I haven't bought my ticket yet!"

"I have already purchased it for you." That irritating smirk was back as his hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out the laminated card. Light stared at him, furious.

"You bought it anyway."

"There was only a thirty-two percent chance that you would turn me down. I rather thought you'd demand my name and if I gave you one, that percentage dropped even lower."

"…L-san, you're insane."

"Just the opposite in fact, but I'm sure you've figured that out by now, Light-san." It was strange, very strange, to be addressed by name after two years of silence between them. L shifted, idly scratching his leg with a foot. "I would also like to extend an invitation for you to use my limo."

"You're offering me a ride home?" L nodded, biting at his thumb again as he stared out the window. Light thought about taxis, with their dirty floors and smoke-stained windows. He thought about the prices, especially, overcharging bastards. The subway, with its crowded trains and filthy stations…they were almost enough to ruin the concerts completely. Still, Light refused to answer him for a moment, just to be an ass. He turned back, frowning and looking a bit put-out. Light shook his head.

"If it's no problem, I'd appreciate it." L grinned again and headed up the stairs without another word. Light again felt that flash of irritation, but it was another Bach concert tonight, so he didn't allow it to bother him for too long. L waved down at someone once he reached the top floor, and Light noticed the older gentleman was waving back from the ground floor. Light nodded a greeting to him, and got a grandfatherly smile back. It was strange, to share his nights with other people.

L led them to his row while Light slipped the new pass and his unspent money into his wallet. It was still in the nose-bleed section, but in the center of it this time. L slid into his seat and Light checked his seat number before putting his wallet away. He was on L's left, and as he sat he noticed what he couldn't see before because of the distance. L's eyes lit up when the orchestra began to enter. They'd entered almost half an hour before the show even begun and L had to have an agreement with the theatre because the ushers let him in without another word. Light felt a spark of jealousy, but it died quickly as L leaned to ask him, "What's your favorite instrument, Light-kun?"

"Light-kun?"

L paused, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he considered the question. "I suppose that against my better judgment, I've come to consider you a friend."

He glanced back at him. "Is that too forward of me?"

"I've realized that everything about you is forward, L." Light leaned back in his chair, and considered the nearly empty stage, watching as the crewmen began to set out the chairs for the performance. "I don't have a favorite."

"You lie." L smirked at him again, and turned to regard the stage again. "I'd bet on the trumpets…perhaps the piano."

"What's yours?" Light's irritation was carefully hidden, but the man glanced at him again anyway.

"Don't be upset. I've been observing you for a while now. Mine are the violins, undoubtedly."

Soon the doors opened to the public and the guests began filing in. The orchestra itself began to assemble, and the first stray notes of the warm up began, ringing through the air. Light hated to admit it, but the peace again returned to the scene now that the stranger was at his side. It was difficult to explain, even more difficult to deal with. He'd spent years coming to this theatre alone. Then this man showed up, and everything had changed now. He shouldn't feel this relaxed knowing that there was someone else this close. Yet, he didn't feel as though he were sharing anything. This man had his own fascination, so Light wasn't really losing anything by sitting next to him.

It was still annoying as hell. However, once the music began, Light found L resting his chin on his knees and ignoring him. That was some relief at least, and he didn't have to worry for long. Bach always eased his mind, and soon he was smiling, ignoring everything but those beautiful tones emanating from the trained professionals on the floor. It was one of his lesser known pieces, but they played it with no less respect. The violins picked up, and Light felt L twitch a bit next to him. Being this close allowed him to see all the details he'd wondered about from a distance, the way his eyes were actually half closed when he finally wrapped his arms around his knees. It was nice. Nicer than he expected it to be.


	2. Chapter 2

AN-This...is moving a lot faster than I thought it would. Truly. I'm taking the time to write this properly. I've deleted sections two and three pages long and re-written them because I didn't feel they met a quality standard...one I didn't even realize I'd set for myself. This will be the best story I write, I've decided. It will be a yaoi, but again, tasteful and non-physical. I am a sexual writer, but I will not write smut. I'm labeling this AU, like I should have from the beginning. It will be just as serious as Concerto, if not more so. I hope to write this with the same passion I started it with, and if nothing else, thank you for sticking with me. It's going to be long. Consider yourselves warned.

Step Lightly,

Kani

XXXX

The months following were easier. Much easier, though it still bothered him to acknowledge it. L was not only a genius, capable of thinking just a quickly as Light himself, but he was also an incredibly intellectual person. He loved to discuss the music, the work, the theatre, and the history…all of it. He never bored of music, and Light found an inane pleasure in being able to tell his own views as well. The little observations he'd made, his various conclusions and suggestions…they all went over easily, each considered and discussed at length over two paper cups of coffee and some form of candy on L's part. It was a rare treat, for Light, to have someone to talk to that completely understood him. He never had to repeat himself, or lower his expectations. It was incredibly satisfying, and he felt himself lucky for finding a fellow genius.

Light didn't tell him his address, still. That was something that he didn't quite trust him enough for, and in reality, he doubted he ever would. L stopped asking after the first two rides, and it became customary for them to part ways at the train station. Light even began to enjoy the walk afterwards. If the weather was fair, it gave him time to think over whatever they'd discussed in the car. Six more concerts passed in this fashion, and L had wordlessly handed him his new season pass when the old had expired after the fourth.

He supposed that was nice too…it saved him money that his family didn't exactly have to spare. Still, his pride ate at him on occasion, and it was all he could do not to feel like a date. He wasn't treated like one…but there was still something annoying about having his door opened for him. He started writing it off and comparing it to a servant instead. It wasn't that he felt L beneath him, not at all, but it eased that flutter of irritation before it grew into something worse.

XXXX

Six days and two hours until the next concert, and Light was going to go insane. He had three classes to finish before he graduated…just three. He'd be done then, out and free for the rest of his life. He could join the police academy, earn his badge, and begin working alongside his father. He'd be fine.

He couldn't wait that long. On nights like this, when he was trapped in his room with nothing to do but study or read he often felt as though he could drop out of the university and never go back. Damn them all, and let them burn, they simply weren't worth the aggravation they inspired. He spent hours just staring at his ceiling from the bed, too apathetic to even glance through his notes. He knew them all, why bother? Tonight he just didn't care…

And if it were_Thursday_, he'd have been sitting in the stadium right now, nearing intermission.

Thinking about the coming concert did nothing to ease his mood…he found himself craving coffee. Rolling his head to the side, he ended up staring at the stack of CDs his family had purchased for him, trying to ease his pre-concert mood-swings. They helped…sort of. They felt hollow, because they were recorded, but they were something at least. He couldn't have a live performance in his house everyday, after all. His mouth was dry, and he could really use some coffee…black and bitter, and he grabbed the Bach CD as he sat up. If he couldn't have the real thing, he'd do them all a favor and settle for the next best. He slipped his CD player out of the drawer and plugged the headphones in.

It was ironic really, what these little headphones had come to symbolize in the Yagami household. It was an unwritten rule…if Light had his headphones in; he was practically bestial for the day. Except for his mother…he was never overly rude to his mother. His father, being a fellow man, however, was fair game.

He set the CD in and tucked the ear buds into his ears as he headed downstairs. The T.V was on and his mother and sister were watching a reality game show. Light knew it was out of boredom…his mother just wanted to know what was popular, and his sister hated them. She only watched them so that when her school friends gossiped about them everyday, she could participate in the conversation. His father was in the dining room, and Light pulled out a bud to call that he was making coffee.

His father apparently had company. Fine with Light, but they'd better like it strong, or they wouldn't be able to drink it. He let the bud dangle over his shoulder as he slipped the CD player into his back pocket. His father loved Columbian roast coffee, and tonight, that's what Light was craving too. It had a faintly smoky flavor to it, one that he was fond of simply because he'd grown up smelling it. It was a scent associated with his father. He listened to the quiet voices behind him, passing in front of the dining room door in his quest for a mug. He couldn't understand what they were saying with Bach blaring in his left ear, but the white glare of paper from the corner of his eye told him that it was business as usual.

The coffee was a done a moment later, and Light poured himself a cup. Curiosity finally overrode his anti-social fit, and he moved to stand in the door. His father was deep in conversation with someone…someone that Light couldn't quite believe was standing in his dining room. Paranoia shot up his spine like a jolt of electricity and he moved to back out slowly, but it was too late. The conversation fell dead as L looked up and noticed him for the first time. His father glanced up and saw him too, and there was a smile there. The other two just continued staring at one another.

"Ah, there you are. Light, this is L…he's been working with us the last few months on our cases."

Light nodded slowly. "He's a detective?"

L sighed gently as his father went on with his monologue, explaining that not only was he a detective, but one of the best in the world. Light never blinked.

"And you're…Light_Yagami_?" L finally interrupted, and his father nodded.

"Yes, this is my son, the one I've been telling you about."

Silence fell again. L still wore his usual white shirt and baggy pants, and Light almost felt out of place in his t-shirt and cotton pants. There was a tense moment as they stared each other down, eyes full of questions. The one that was glaringly important was whether or not to tell Light's father they already knew each other. Would it change the concerts, and if so, would they want him to know? L shook his head almost imperceptibly no, and Light agreed. They'd been sharing the escape for over a year now…there was no need to complicate things. At least, not any further than having his companion randomly appear at his house…because that was enough of a problem in and of itself. He finally cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Coffee?"

Both men nodded and Light escaped into the kitchen. So much for never telling the bastard where he lived…why did he _have_ to have coffee tonight? He could have stayed in his room and avoided ever knowing that L…the detective, apparently, knew more than Light had ever planned to tell him. He brought out two more coffee cups and set them on the counter. Yes, he could have stayed squirreled away in his room, his door locked and his music loud, and L might never have know that he was Light _Yagami_, Chief Inspector Soichiro _Yagami's _son. He opened the sugar canister and paused, scoop in hand. His father only liked about a spoon's worth of sugar in his coffee…but L…

Light threw a dash in one cup, and dumped the rest of the scoop into the other mug. About a quarter of a cup, and he sighed to himself, because it would take a good five minutes just to dissolve all of it. He pulled a spoon from the drawer, and shoved it with an irritated _clink_ to the bottom of the cup. The ceramic rang with the force of his stirring. What was with this man? Really, there was a line somewhere that he crossed, there had to be. Normal was not in this man's vocabulary.

Light picked up the cups in one hand and returned to the table. His father reached for the one on the left and Light warned him off.

"No, not that one." Soichiro hesitated and then took the other. Light thrust the other at L handle first, ignoring the heat coming off the ceramic and burning his hand. No one, not even his father, would have been able to tell that he was angry.

L knew. L always knew. He could tell from the way he took the cup and glanced back up at him, eyes questioning. Light just shook his head a bit, no don't worry about it. He supposed it wasn't really his fault after all. Not like he could tell the man not to come to an address without giving it to him. He watched the detective sip his coffee cautiously, and felt a rush of pride as his face lit up. The drink was practically syrup, but that didn't matter. L took a bigger sip and Light, satisfied that it met the man's odd specifications, turned to peer over the table.

"What's the problem?" L pointed to a picture near the corner.

"This is our suspect, but he has no apparent motive." Light frowned.

"You checked for insurance?"

"Yes. Nothing there." Light crossed his arms and glanced over the information arrayed on the wood. Then he pulled out a chair.

Time flew. Hours went by between the three of them, and as the pile of papers finally began to shrink, as cases were either closed or hinges uncovered, Light's mood gradually lifted. Around midnight or so, he felt back to normal, and made the second pot of coffee without being asked. The girls went to bed long before they'd even gotten comfortable, but this was something that all three of them shared a passion for. Files were returned to the office down the hall, or tucked into briefcases, all with hand written notes and sticky-papers attached, detailing the night's findings. When they were opened at the station the coming Monday, there would either be a warrant for arrest to fetch, or a new lead to follow.

Eventually, Soichiro pushed back and downed the last of his coffee. Light glanced up and noticed for the first time in a while how old his father was getting. He knew that part of it was the work, but it was disconcerting to see the wrinkles and gray in his hair. It seemed that every year, he grew more and more tired. He'd begun wincing when he stood, a sign that arthritis had already begun to plague his lower back. Soichiro was not one to complain, but he couldn't hide that sort of thing from his son…they had agreed, however, that when it became bad it would be necessary to tell his wife.

So tonight, when he stood and stretched, Light made his suggestion without thinking.

"Why don't you head out for the night, Dad? You're tired…"

"…I think I will. I'll leave you to see L out then, if you don't mind." Light's eyes fell on the other man, sitting across the table, and for a second or two, he hated himself. The situation was awkward enough as it was, and without thinking, he'd just guaranteed himself another pointless, strange, and likely infuriating conversation. He sighed to himself and forced a smile for his father's sake. L already knew he was upset…no need to play nice anymore.

"…Yeah…not a problem at all."

"Well, then…Goodnight boys."

"Sleep well, Yagami-san. You've done well tonight."

"Night Dad."

The silence that followed his father out of the room was one of a clarity that Light hadn't heard between them in a while. Even after the quiet click of the bedroom door closing up the stairs didn't deter them from the staring match they'd entered. In truth it was either stare, or talk, and at the moment, talking was the less desirable option. Light's hand tightened around his cup. He briefly considered going back to work, but the detective hadn't so much as glanced at the papers again. Something, anything really, needed to be said, but Light didn't trust himself to be civil just yet.

L broke it. He stared into the depths of his coffee cup as though considering a cookie that had burned. "You're angry."

"I suppose. Disconcerted, really."

"Understandable. That's likely the only reason you're so upset…you don't seem the type to handle confusion with a smile and a wave."

"I'm not overly familiar with it, I'm afraid." Light took a sip of his coffee and crossed his arms on the table. "What has my father told you?"

L smiled fondly and took a drink, glancing back up at the young man across the table. "Nothing of great importance, I assure you…the usual proud father ramblings about your school work and accomplishments."

Light considered the blatant dodge, but decided to let it pass. "I see."

"Have you been enjoying your walks?" Light tensed. He was referring to the five blocks from here to the station, he knew, but that was another topic he'd hoped to avoid. The ride home would have been a great deal shorter if he'd just allow the detective to drive him straight there, but again his pride and paranoia forced him to the sidewalk every time. It was Light's turn to take a drink and dodge the question.

"Very much. The evenings are nice when the town is peaceful." The quiet came back, and they regarded each other over the table. Light sighed, and took another drink, sloshing his coffee around his cup for lack of something better to do. "So…you're the great L, huh?"

"…You believe your father then?"

"He wouldn't lie about something of that magnitude. He's also not inclined to exaggerate, either."

"What if I lied to him?"

"Well…then you're a fool playing a very risky game, I'd imagine."

L smirked over his knees. "Risky?"

"Yes…someone as powerful and driven as L is sure to have enemies. I don't know that I'd go around claiming them, no matter how good of a con-artist I may be."

"You obviously don't know many, discounting yourself of course."

Light's eyes narrowed. "I'm fairly honest about myself, in reality."

L's eyebrow rose just slightly, and Light re-thought the statement. "I'm more inclined to just not tell anyone anything at all rather than lie to them to shut them up."

"We both lie to some extent, Light-kun. It is…difficult, for people of our caliber to exist otherwise. We hide ourselves."

"L…what are you doing here?"

"I merely came to help your father sort through his work. He's a good man in a difficult position. That idiot running his department expects far too much from an aging officer, and your father is too proud to hand off the work."

"You're fond of him, then…"

"He reminded me of you." It was Light's turn to raise an eyebrow, and L regarded his cup in that quietly thoughtful way of his. "I thought it mere coincidence about the names…or rather, I refused to associate you with my work in any way, so I told myself it was coincidence. He shares some of your mannerisms…the quiet air of intelligence that surrounds him, the passion he shows when he works. You are most definitely your father's son, Light Yagami."

"I am proud to be. He's a good man." Light leaned back in his chair and relaxed a bit, finally. L obviously had not come here with any ill intention…he felt a bit of an ass for his earlier demeanor. L pressed his thumb to his lips and for a moment, they were just quiet again.

"I still make you uncomfortable don't I?"

Light sighed, crossing his arms over his chest again. "It's not something that you do…it's just the fact that you exist, and that…I've befriended you. I'm not one to…share myself…or any aspect of my life for that matter."

"Your father often worries because you do not date." L nodded to himself. "He fears he's put too much pressure on you to do well in your scholastic endeavors."

"He shouldn't. You are right though…we do not adjust as easily as other do. We adapt, but we cannot change…we know that we are different, whether it shows or not."

"I supposed as much." L smiled suddenly. "…Though it is good to know that the camaraderie is mutual."

Light shook his head as he sipped his coffee. "Hmm no…I still don't like you being here. I don't like knowing that you know where I live."

"You are quite paranoid, you know…and arrogant. Do you really believe that I'm going to do something as crude as stalk you?"

"No, but you are entirely too forward for my liking. I'll tell you this, the day you show up at my door just to talk to me will be the day I stop talking to you at all."

L smirked and shook his head. "Amazing…"

"What?"

"It just…amazes me that you can be that arrogant. No don't…" L held up his hand to cut him off. "I don't mean that offensively. In fact, I find your confidence to be refreshing."

"I simply meant that I am not a social person. You don't know me at all, L. You have no idea how…much, I've already done. What a step it is for me to get into your car every time, for me to sit with you. It matters."

"…I understand. I will respect your home…shall I call ahead to warn you that I'm coming here with your father?" The sarcasm was not lost on Light and he stood to leave. Even being in a separate room would be better than sitting here while the detective mocked him.

"Light-kun, wait."

"I asked you to take me seriously, L. I didn't realize that was such an undertaking."

"I am not mocking you. Believe me…I am one of the top ranking detectives in the world, Light-kun…you do not know the meaning of paranoia. I can't even bring myself to tell you my real name, and I know it must be unnerving for me to suddenly appear here, in your home. Truly, I do."

Light stared hard at him for a moment before returning to his seat. He may not understand his every move, but the detective at least understood that much. He stared into his now empty cup and ran a hand through his hair. "Email me next time."

"Email?"

Light raised an eyebrow. "You mean the greatest detective in the world can't hack my father's contact list?"

L chuckled and downed the last of his coffee. Light winced, only being able to imagine the thick syrup that must have been in the bottom of the mug. "Don't encourage me to pry, Light-kun. If I wanted, I could find out what your favorite candy was as a child."

"Toffee." Light returned with a smirk.

"Well…you're no fun." Light reached over and scribbled his email account onto a sticky-note and slid the pad across the table to the detective.

"Just do me a favor and don't make a habit out of this."

"I won't." L put a leg down to tuck the note into his pocket. "You know, I never thought I'd see you in casual clothing."

"Well, I damn sure never thought I'd be serving you coffee in my dining room."

"Agreed. It's nearing three…I should be going." L stood and Light led him to the door.

XXXX

L waited for Light to stop laughing before he passed him his coffee and accepted the sugar. "Is it true that you have decided to stay on another year at the academy?"

"Yes…" Light wiped the tears from his eyes and promptly burned his tongue. "Damn it…anyway, yes…they've made some changes to the curriculum. They've added a few more courses that I thought sounded interesting, and the government has practically thrown the money at me."

Light watched him set his cup down and take the lid off. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, the lead French horn neglected to zip his pants…I can think of no other reason for his crotch to catch the light like that."

"And on the televised night too..." L's hands faltered slightly as he ripped the sugar open. Light watched him closer now, his humor fading away. There was something on his mind, and he briefly wondered to himself when he'd begun paying enough attention to notice. L was his friend…his only friend…and he supposed that made him his best friend as well. Light had done precious little in the way of reciprocation and it made him feel like an ass sometimes. L bought his tickets, his coffee, drove him to the station every performance. He knew that three months was plenty of time to earn the money he was costing the detective, but it had never been that simple. The concerts, though months apart, were their own world…time did not move between or around them. Every time he walked through those doors, he felt he'd been there just the day before, and that he would come again tomorrow.

"Something wrong?" L glanced sharply at him, and Light knew he'd surprised him. He'd just now become friendly with the detective, truly and honestly friendly. He'd begun relaxing and shocked himself the first time he crossed his legs in the limo. That was something he solely did when he felt entirely comfortable in a situation. L didn't know the significance of…well, on second consideration, he probably did, but that was beside the point. Light only ever did that around his family…he considered it bad posture, and it made him feel lazy. Light had really begun treating him better, at least by his own standards…he owed the detective that much. L dumped the last of the sugar in and began stirring, staring back at him thoughtfully.

"You've become rather perceptive lately."

"Only because you allowed it." That was true too…once Light had started relaxing, the detective had as well. He supposed it was years of working with criminals, but if someone in the room were tense, so was L. Now that they'd become comfortable with each other, Light found he was able to read the detective fairly easily.

"I suppose I have. I have to leave for few months…" Light raised an eyebrow.

"Months?"

"About three concerts or so…"

"…so almost a year, in reality."

"Yes. I have accepted a case overseas…a rather pressing one, I'm afraid."

Light nodded and leaned back in his seat. So he'd be alone for the next few performances…like it used to be. He wondered whether he'd enjoy it…honestly he couldn't imagine a concert without the detective anymore. The man had worked his way into Light's perception of the theatre, and while Light usually thought he was better off for it, he used to worry he'd never be able to go back. He supposed he'd find out now, and he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. L snapped the lid onto his cup and pressed the panel.

"Ready. East Station please…" L took a sip, and even after two years, Light still couldn't repress his shiver of revulsion. It made L smile a bit. "I have arranged for you to receive another pass and the same treatment in my absence."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy my own…"

L gave him a flat look. "I do not have many friends, and you are the only one I'm allowed to visit and spoil. It should be ready by the fourth of the coming January. You will be acting as my representative, so please…don't run about naked or jump screaming from the balcony."

Light chuckled…the man had a strange sense of humor, to be sure. "Will they still let me in early?"

"If you decide to show up, yes." Light paused…would he really have a reason to show up an hour early, with no one to talk to? Not really. He nodded anyway, taking a drink of his some-what cooler coffee. His abused tongue complained but he ignored it.

"So, what kind of case is it?"

L chuckled and shook his head. "You know better."

"Worth a shot. Will you be back before the December showing?"

"I should be. I will write you if things change. Also, I have a request to make."

"What?"

"I want you to take taxis while I am away. I am not comfortable with you walking to the stations anymore."

Light turned to stare at him, but L was careful not to meet his eyes. L wouldn't make such a request without reason, without something drastic encouraging his caution. Light thought back to the way he'd tensed when he'd mentioned the fact that the night's performance was going to be recorded for a New Year's special on the news.

"…The problem is here, isn't it?" L said nothing, and Light pushed again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "The criminal you're looking for…they're here in Japan."

"It is a possibility…one I cannot overlook, because it jeopardizes your safety as well as my own." L frowned suddenly, downing about half his coffee at once. "You once accused me of playing a risky game…a few months ago, in your dining room."

"I remember."

"I didn't dissuade the notion, but it wasn't the game I thought. If they already know I'm here, then even our small contact may prove dangerous for you."

"Just me?"

"There is a reason I didn't press the issue when you refused to let me take you home. In truth, it was safer for us both….and for your family."

"So they really are here…and that threatening?"

"Oh I don't know if they've made it to Japan yet. I doubt it. Either way, once I am gone, you will no longer be of interest to them. I will return when the matter had been taken care of."

"…Are you sure I shouldn't buy my own ticket?"

"The detective L is not in any way affiliated with the theatre. I sponsor under an alias. You'll be fine."

Light leaned back, frowning. He hadn't realized exactly how much he'd come to trust the detective, and now, with this new situation, he found himself just as tense as he'd been the first night he'd slipped into this limo. It was unsettling to say the least…it rattled him to the bone to know that not only had he come to trust the man, he was now depending on him to keep his family safe. Light wasn't so much worried for his own safety, but his father was old. He was a seasoned cop, but the toll of age was not going easy on him. It left Light the strongest man in the house, at his prime at twenty one.

"Light-kun, please do not be angry with me."

Light realized that he'd tensed again and forced himself to relax. "I'm not angry, L…I'm just worried."

"So am I. Still, I am dealing with the situation before it truly becomes a problem, and I felt you had a right to know."

"Thank you. Is there anything I need to be careful of?" L considered his coffee, his sad frown almost a grimace. He knocked the rest of it back and shook his head.

"No…no, it's better for you not to know anything. There's no point in making you more paranoid than you already are, and if they have crossed the water and are watching you, you don't want to seem aware of the situation. If they think you know something, even if it's just that they exist, they'll act on it. Even with me gone, they may follow you, just to be sure…and I cannot protect your family once I leave. It'd be even worse if they knew that I'd been to your house. I'm going to discuss it with your father before I go, so between the two of you, you should be safe enough."

"You'll talk to my father about it?"

"Your father will know the kind of behavior they'd be looking for, and it'll be almost instinctive for him to avoid it. Aside from that, you are the only one in the house with an infallibly consistent routine, and changing it, or making it seem different in any way will only hurt our cause."

"…That's bullshit. Why won't you tell me anything?"

"Because I'm worried. It doesn't take much research to learn everything about you, Light…you've spent most of your life in plain sight because of your mind. There's no reason for them to think we're friends, and it's safer that way. If they do decide to dig, they likely won't make the connection anyway. On top of that, I've just told you that I don't think they've made it to Japan yet."

"And if they show up while you're gone? If you get wherever you're going to find you passed them in the airport while they boarded the return flight?"

"Then I will be back and waiting for them when they land here. Why is that difficult to accept?"

"…You haven't lied to me yet, L. However, while the attempt is noble, it's kind of pissing me off that you won't tell me anything on the pretense of my protection. I'm studying to do the same work that you are…"

"And at this rate Light, you will… possibly so well that we could work alongside each other in the future. However, your protection is anything but a pretense, I assure you. I do not take my friends lightly…I have precious few to risk playing games with their lives."

The phrasing drew Light's attention. "But you wouldn't risk someone's life… even if they weren't a 'friend'."

"…I haven't lied to you yet, Light-kun."

Light had trouble swallowing for a moment. The detective would kill? He would put an innocent at risk to further his own ends? Light stopped before he became angry, remembering that L fought for justice. He was one of the best the world had to offer, as well…Light had no idea the kind of choices he may have made, or would make in the future. L turned those dark eyes on him again, and answered a question Light hadn't realized he was asking.

"…And yes…I think you would too."


	3. Chapter 3

Six months and two concerts later Light returned home utterly depressed. The door shut behind him and he called goodnight to his father without even walking into the room. Instead, he headed directly up the stairs. Tonight, he couldn't be bothered with company and even the lure of the cases spread across the table couldn't reach him. His light jacket and the tie came off, and he crossed to his desk, turning his lamp on and pulling out his notes. He hadn't been sleeping well. His eyes were ringed by circles that had never before existed.

He'd become unbelievably paranoid…he'd decided by week three or so that the next time his life was in danger, L should just keep his mouth shut. For months, he'd been seeing random shadows, people that looked too familiar, and yet completely unknown. Faces in the station, on campus, in the marketplace…even the theatre…they were all strange and somewhat threatening. It wasn't the fact that the danger existed...after all, Light planned to go into the police-force, and that guaranteed him some enemies in the future. He was hardly afraid of them. It was the fact that they weren't his…he knew nothing about them. They were L's, and therefore, of a greater magnitude than a mere Japanese detective would ever face. If L had given him more information, if he'd been involved with the case perhaps, it wouldn't have been nearly as hard. However, all he knew was that he was a sitting duck for some international crime ring that may or may not have been stalking his best friend.

Perhaps it was the fact that Light had lived his life in complete solitude before. There was Light…and then his family. That encompassed the entirety of his emotional scale, because in reality, he didn't give a damn about his girlfriend at school or his classmates. Lately, the addition of L had done wonders to ease his tension, because he'd found someone who understood him. In reality, it was L's fault, because L was the one to make him doubt his security. The man had quite literally walked down a stair case and into his life, and Light had let him.

He'd let him. That had to be the most annoying fact of the situation…he'd let him. If Light hadn't been so damned curious, if he hadn't been so damned egotistical, convinced that the detective just needed to be brushed off like the rest of them, perhaps he'd have been spared this near insanity. His arrogance would be his downfall, he'd concluded.

Light was lonely. It all came down to that one, intolerable fact. L had not only worked his way into his life, he'd promptly walked back out of it. Light knew that to be a complete exaggeration, but the fact remained that the detective, his only friend, was gone. Light had become spoiled with the contact, he basked in it, because here, finally, was someone he could relate to. Someone he could communicate with on a personal level that didn't owe him anything, and better yet, wanted nothing from him. Nothing but a few conversations, and perhaps the companionship of another person who thought music healed.

Ironic, that not only had he befriended the enigmatic sleuth, but that he'd been exactly the kind of person Light could get along with, after years of his self-imposed isolation. The odds of stepping out of his shell to meet someone so like him were almost…phenomenal. They even shared the same job interests. Where he was now, Light had no clue, but he'd taken with him some small part of Light's confidence. If L could so easily disrupt his pattern, what about everyone else? How long until he reached out to talk to someone again, only to find they were a complete Average Joe and incapable of talking to him on any intellectual level?

Light let his forehead hit his desk, sighing to himself. God, he was a dramatic, arrogant pig, and he knew it, but he was angry…angry at L, because L had changed him in so little time, and with so little contact. He'd shown Light was friendship was, and it scared the hell out of him. It scared him to actually give a damn about someone else, to let someone else's opinion matter to him. Even now, L was off in some other country, being a good friend and in general the kind of person that would save the world, and there was Light…stuck in school, left with only his self-centered musings and the overt fear that someone were trying to kill him. If L never came back (and Light almost wished he wouldn't at this point), Light would always worry that someone would make the connection between them and come after him and family. The idea itself was absolutely ludicrous (and he _knew_that, just _knew_ it) but every time Light was alone, he felt a non-existent stare upon his back. While L was off playing the hero, with his noble bull-shit about keeping Light in the dark so ensure his safety.

Nights like this, Light hated his friend. He really did. He hated him because, for the first time, Light was jealous of someone. So completely and thoroughly jealous was he that it almost turned his stomach to walk up the theatre stairs alone, an hour early, and be admitted to an empty stage. He hated him, because he was off _doing_ something. Worse, he was off _doing_ everything that Light had ever dreamed of _doing_ himself. He was traveling countries, saving lives, seeing the world, and criminals quaked to hear his name. That was every wild fantasy Light had ever imagined as a small child, and here he was…still the child in the situation, at age twenty-two. Here he was, trapped in his college life and feeling completely impotent. Here, damn it, right here he was trapped, counting on a _friend_ to save his family's lives.

The unrivalled mental back-hand of the entire situation was that Light was smart enough to know that it was just a fit. That he was just going through a mood, because he was frustrated. He knew it'd pass the second he got out of the taxi in December, and L's skinny ass was standing by the door, as always. He knew that the threat to his family was practically non-existent…if they'd made it to Japan, they would have made a move by now. Light would have heard something. Feeling all of that, and knowing, that it meant nothing, that he was just panicky and frustrated…it just about killed him.

"Oh don't pout like that, darling…it's so unbecoming."

The feminine voice startled him so badly that his chair actually fell over when he leapt to his feet. Standing just beside his door was a woman in black, ice blonde hair pulled tight away from her face. A tool belt hung around her hips, a full ensemble of strange picks and tools on one side, and a range of electrical equivalents on the other. A second glance also revealed a small hammer hanging below her hip. A pair of large, crimson-framed sunglasses perched atop her hair, giving the entire outfit an amusingly casual feel. She looked like something out of a pulp-fiction novel, but Light was anything but amused.

"Who are you?"

"Relax, I work for L." Light didn't blink at the name…it could easily have been a ruse to determine if he were connected to the detective. It was far better not to acknowledge the name for what it was.

"For what?" The woman grinned broadly, and clapped her hands once. Her voice dripped sarcasm but the amusement seemed real enough…not that it helped any.

"Oh, aren't you clever? He'd be so proud of you."

"What do you want?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned on the wall again. "He also said you'd be quite rude. Pick your chair up Yagami, I'm only here for a moment."

Light felt his customary defense pick itself back up finally. Anger and a healthy dose of cynicism made him lean back on his desk defiantly, propping a foot on the overturned chair. There was letter opener in his drawer…what amounted to a small, dull knife. A pitiful weapon, but he was fairly sure it was better than his fists.

"Have it your way. As I've said, I work for L and I have a message for you." Light put on his best sarcastic voice and snatched the drawer open.

"Well, I'll just have to write this down immediately, won't I?"

"Oh see? Why'd you have to do that? I mean really…" Light glanced up and froze, staring down the barrel of a small pistol. So much for his letter opener…

"Do you really think I'm stupid, Light Yagami? Think about it, because it's not an answer you'd like to get wrong. Take your hand out of the drawer. I don't know what you were planning to pull, but I haven't got the time, and pretty as you are, I certainly don't have the patience."

There was something cold in her expression, and if she'd never shot anyone before, she was damn good at bluffing it. Light withdrew his empty hand and slid the drawer shut quietly. He didn't bother moving slowly, the woman was obviously a professional at…whatever she did. She was in complete control of the fire arm, and moving slowly would only piss them both off.

"Who are you and why are you here?" The woman gave an exasperated sigh, counting off on her fingers with the gun barrel.

"My name is _Wedy_. I'm a _Sagittarius_, I like long walks on the _beach_, dry martinis and red-headed _men_…preferably in the same night. Ask L when he gets back, he'll tell you all about me."

"Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to piss me off now? It's midnight and you're holding me hostage in my own bedroom…"

"Well, in his exact words, 'He's probably stressed himself out so much that he's having raging paranoia fits. Tell him to calm down before he gets someone killed.'"

Damn him, L always knew. Even from thousands of miles away, he knew. That was not natural, that couldn't be, the freak…

"And I was instructed to take note of the time you got home and scold you like a mother hen if it were any later than Eleven thirty. You should be taking taxis, not the train."

"Better not to change my schedule."

"I think you just want to piss him off, personally." She smirked. "…Can't say I blame you."

She lowered the gun and tucked it into her belt. Light still wanted to stab her, but it was more sheer frustration than actual self-defense at this point. Were all of L's associates as infuriating as the man himself? Wedy, as it were, looked him over critically, as though seeing him for the first time. She frowned.

"You have been nervous haven't you? You're profile said 120 pounds, but you're almost as thin as L is…and you haven't been getting enough rest."

"How's the case going?"

"…He's tired. Working. The usual." She adjusted her belt and pulled her gloves on. Light frowned.

"I didn't ask about him."

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you? Now, I've been instructed to install minor surveillance around the outside of the house. L will send you a link that will allow you to connect with the feed so you can monitor it yourself. That should keep you from ripping your hair out."

"Fine. Just get out of my house as quickly as possible."

"Oh I hadn't planned on asking your approval. There's not much you could do to stop me. I'll be gone by one or so."

XXXX

Light rolled over and waited for the nausea to pass. His stomach turned surprising acrobatic flips even when he was absolutely still. The dim glow in the room told him that it was mid-morning…probably just after ten or so. His sense of time had completely deserted him in the two weeks he'd been in bed. He was sure that if he stopped to think about it, the date would come to him in less than a minute. However, thinking required energy…energy that the cough syrup and the flu had robbed him of.

So instead, he lay there…staring at the ceiling and wondering if he'd ever eat solid food again. Even the broth was beginning to curdle his blood it seemed. He hated being sick…he hated the flu even more. He despised the headaches, the nausea, and especially the hot and cold flashes. He'd finally decided that he'd rather be hot than cold, and stripped, burying himself under five blankets and resolving to never come out again. Light hated being cold…it was the most invasive, technical, efficient misery ever created. It sank into his very bones and shook him. It robbed him of all control, set him to trembling and Light hated not being in control of his body. Period. End of all discussion on the topic then, there, and forever forward. It drove him insane, when the cold fits came and he lay there, shivering like an abused kitten and completely unable to stop. Any thought of stopping, or holding a single limb still somehow only increased the muscle spasms...as though just to spite him.

His sister had even lent him her electric blanket. She'd saved her allowance an entire winter and bought one for her room. It had temperatures that no normal human could sleep comfortably in…but Light could. Perhaps it was slightly sadomasochistic of him, but he turned it up as high as the damn thing would go and then added four more blankets on top of that. He considered himself lucky that his bed hadn't caught fire while he slept. His parents allowed it because he convinced them he was just trying to break his fever.

The heat almost hurt, but it took away the ache in his muscles and did some for the chills. The pills on his nightstand gave him relief from his headaches for four hour intervals, and he'd been through two bottles since he'd first stayed home from academy training. The two extra courses he'd stayed on for were by far the best he'd ever taken, and there were only a handful of students qualified for them. Now he was scheduled for one last one, a half semester long, and it promised to actually be challenging. While the others weren't so much, they were at least engaging.

His stomach gave a sudden lurch and he tensed, ready to leap to the side of the bed and empty his stomach into the pot his mother had provided. He wasn't fast enough to make it to the bathroom in the hall, and after the first incident, his mother forbade him to get up again. His fate sealed, Light had remained there, in bed, until his father came to help him to the shower. God, he hated being sick…even the feel of hot water on his skin triggered the nausea. Worse, it was the adrenaline based kind that started as pins and needles in his skin. He hated that too. He was coming to hate a lot of things.

Like the black spot on his ceiling, that he'd unconsciously been staring at. It could have been anything, a fly maybe, but now that it had his dazed attention, he couldn't pull away. A spot, a single black spot…there on his pristine ceiling. Was it a fly? It wasn't moving. Maybe it was, and he just couldn't focus enough to see it…did it twitch? Had it just moved? The intensity of the spot was too much for his head, and he shut his eyes with a groan, wondering what the fuck a genius was doing staring at black spot anyway.

"Amazing."

Great, now he was hallucinating too. He hadn't the strength or the willpower to lift his head, but that voice was the last one in the world he wanted to hear. Perhaps it was really his father, come to check on him? No, the door was closed, and had been for the half hour or so he'd been lying here awake. He didn't open his eyes, or even dignify his illusion with a response, lying there completely motionless.

"You are awake, are you not?"

…What the hell? Light opened his eyes, and completely against every fiber of his will, his eyes focused on the black spot again.

The fly was talking to him?

"Light-kun, it is quite rude to ignore your guests."

Oh no. Still staring at the black spot on the wall, Light assessed the situation to the best his fevered mind could handle. It was frustrating. He was in bed…with a pot on the floor, two kinds of pills and a syrup on his nightstand. Check. It was morning, there was sunlight, his window was closed, because it was…December…and cold. Check. His room was cold…might be fever, possibly December…he had five blankets and two pillows. Check. There was a black and white blur in his peripheral vision that could be L sitting at his desk, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

That last one didn't want to come through…something getting lost in translation, shot down by fever and cough suppressant.

…Probably the part about L being in his bedroom.

He blinked slowly and lifted his head a fraction of an inch before actually looking. The detective cocked his head to the side, staring back at him. Light's eyes slowly widened as the thought came through and slapped him with a hammer composed of reality. Yes, that was L, and yes, he was present, real, and accounted for. He glanced back up at the spot, anyway, just to be sure.

What the hell?

He opened his mouth, intending to say just that, but the vibration in his vocal chords produced an ungodly stinging and itch, and all hope of sound escaping was lost. Light sat up and coughed, hard, covering his mouth with a fist as his lungs worked frantically to abuse his throat even further, until the sensation eased somewhat. L wrinkled his nose in distaste. It earned him a scowl as Light's spasms died down and he wrapped his arms around his bare stomach.

The feel of his own skin shocked him, and his fevered thoughts remembered that he wore nothing more than boxers beneath the blankets. While he was hardly shy he was…annoyed as hell. L seemed to take immense pleasure in making him uncomfortable in some way or other. He tried to growl as he snatched the fallen blankets up, but it made his sore throat flare up again, and he stilled, holding his breath until it passed. He tried again.

"What the hell?" The sound of his own voice was annoying, too.

"You missed the concert last night." Light stared hard at him, uncomprehending. Missed the concert?

"Time?" L glanced at his clock, and Light cursed himself for not thinking to just turn his head.

"It is Ten and forty two minutes, seventeen seconds, On Friday, December the 27th."

"…Fuck."

"Though several girls are willing, I don't believe you are in fit shape to do any such thing, Light-kun." If any doubt remained that this was indeed L, it was gone. Light didn't bother to reply to that and instead lay back down as gently as he could. He suddenly picked his head up again, remembering the surveillance he'd been watching for the last few months…the thought that it could have been a trap crossed his mind, now that his head was spinning he was forced breathe for a few seconds before he could ask.

"…Woman."

L rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, yes…her name is Wedy, she is a Sagittarius, she likes long walks on the beach, dry martinis, and red-headed men. She's also the most talented thief in the western hemisphere. She was legitimate, and she found you extremely attractive. I believe that's why you got such good coverage."

Light just groaned, and pulled the blankets over his head. L's voice penetrated the thick wall of cotton and fluff. "Did you really try to stab her with scissors?"

"…Letter opener."

"Ah."

Light peered over the top of his blankets again and sighed. L was obviously not leaving; he was even nibbling on something now. Too weak to throw him out, and too sore to try to insult him into going, he sat up and fluffed his pillows. The blankets dropped around his waist again. L stared at him, nibbling on something crunchy.

"If you wish to dress, I will leave."

"I can hardly walk."

"Yes I know, but I feel better now that I've said the cliché pointless sentiment. Don't ruin it, or I'll have to come up with another."

Light rolled his own eyes and paused as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Once it passed, he turned and crossed his arms, resisting the urge to rub the goosebumps springing over his arms. Once, a long time ago…maybe ten minutes, he'd been warm and comfortable, and perfectly oblivious to the detective's presence. Now, here he sat, stuck, and confined to his cold room. He glanced over at the window to see snow falling. Lovely, but perfectly atrocious…he hated the snow.

"How long have you been here?"

"Just a few minutes." Light glanced back at him, and frowned.

"You're lying…there'd be water on the floor."

L grinned at him, wiggling his toes just to spite him. "Very good. Observant even when you are functioning at less than half your norm."

"Why is it so cold? " Light finally gave in and pulled covers back up. L rolled his eyes to the ceiling, crunching his candy loudly.

"I hate being hot…I turned the thermostat down on my way up the stairs."

Light's mouth almost fell open…almost. His irritated reply died in his throat and sent him into another hacking fit. He choked out between breaths. "You came…into our…house, and…turned down our thermostat?!"

"Oh your parents know that I am here, Light-kun, and really, you can't sweat a fever you know. It's winter…enjoy the season."

Light stared at him. "…Fuck you. Turn it back up."

"…No. I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

"Because you're quite fascinating when you're sick…it amuses me. I brought you something from England." L tossed him the box that had been balancing on the arm of the chair up until now. It landed on the blankets somewhere by Light's knees.

"What is it?"

"Real English Toffee." Light picked up the box and sniffed it curiously. His stomach screamed in agony, and he dropped it to clap a hand over his mouth. Bile rose in his throat, leaving his mouth sour, but he managed to control the reflex. He looked up to find L watching him with a wrinkled nose again.

"What?"

"I don't like sick people. You're no longer contagious, or I would still be in England, I think."

"…Shut up and get the toothpaste from the sink."

"…I will, just because that is disgusting, and I can't stand thinking about it." The detective stood and left. He was gone just long enough to make Light wonder if he'd dreamed the entire visit. Then L's voice called from the hallway, "I've never tried this brand."

"Don't, you'll hate it." The detective reappeared and tossed Light the tube. He squeezed a tiny bit onto his finger and sullenly shoved it to his mouth. The bitter mint paste rinsed his tongue of the flavor, and he sighed in relief. Light glanced up, and L twitched visibly, his nose curling again.

"Why in god's name are you _eating_ it? Aren't you sick enough?"

"I'm not…" Light snapped around his fingertip before capping the tube again. He laid it alongside medications on his nightstand and watched L reclaim his seat. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm impressed. It took you almost an hour to finally ask that question."

"I really didn't care…I just wanted to throw you out. Now, I'm kind of curious though."

L shrugged. "I got worried when you didn't show, so I called. If I didn't get that toffee out of my possession I would have eaten all of it."

Light glanced at the package and shivered. He knew better than to eat something he loved when he was ill…he'd never be able to stomach it again if he did. "How much did you eat?"

"While sitting here waiting for you to wake up? …About half the box. Roughly…I think."

"…Amazing. Thank you, L. Is there any left at all?"

"A few pieces, yes."

Light rolled his eyes. The mint taste was beginning to make him ill now, ironic as it was. He grabbed the toothpaste and got another tiny bit before downing the glass of water on his nightstand.

"Light-kun…you did not once take a taxi. I am most displeased about that."

"Yes, mother."

"If your mother only knew…"

"Are you going to tell on me?"

"No…but if you ever want another season pass from-"

"Don't start with me." He was surprised he could manage the tone with his current state of being, but it killed that sentence before L even got it out. " I didn't ask you to start paying for them. Don't turn that into some bargaining chip or I'm out. Completely."

L narrowed his eyes, but Light held him there, refusing to back down. He would not do it; he refused to let the detective turn something that was sacred to him into something that he was asking for. He didn't ever plan on going to the concerts with him in the first place, and if L had seriously considered using that to control him…fuck him. That was his.

L sighed, and looked away. "I did not mean that, Light-kun. I apologize."

Light refused to answer him, still staring him down. L glanced up again, resting his hands on his knees. "Someone that sick shouldn't be able to be so commanding."

"Don't try to control me. Ever. You are not a part of my life, you don't belong here, and I don't have to do anything that involves you. I can go back to the concerts alone, and while I do enjoy your company, the second you turn it into something cheap and usable, it's done."

"That was not my…well, it was my intention, but I am angry with you."

"The problem has been taken care of?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be sitting here."

"Then there isn't a problem anymore…is there?" That earned him a look that could burn water.

"While I am touched that you take our friendship so seriously, I must ask you not to be hypocritical. I only asked because I was worried, and I am only upset for the same reason."

"I just thought you knew me better." The remark stung, he could tell, because the detective closed his eyes and sighed again.

"I do. I merely did not think my words through. I apologize. I have to ask though…why didn't you do it?"

Light settled deeper into his pillows, almost preening. "I could lie and say it was money, but really…You're quite amusing when you're frustrated."

He paused for a moment, letting the detective's own words sink in and watching L's frown deepen. Finally, he asked the question he'd been waiting to, the only reason he hadn't demanded that L leave the second he woke up. After year, his curiosity had burned a hole in his stomach, one that didn't want to go away.

"How did it go?"

"Well enough. Typical drug-ring…mafia type criminals, laundering money and throwing bodies in the river…"

"What happened?"

"Guiseppe Starling, that's what happened…he headed the entire organization, and I finally put him away last year. Ironically, two of his supporters were later released on parole for good behavior."

"He kept running it from prison…"

"Yes. His heirs were also captured by me, so you can imagine the pretty little revenge stories running there. I ended up tracking them, and dismantled the organization two and three at a time. All that's left of them now are a few punk teenagers playing the big time league…they'll go under without the real power soon enough. I suspect to find them dead or perhaps bring them in on lesser trafficking charges."

"What were they dealing?"

"Opiates and firearms mostly…a lot of counterfeit money, too. We're still tracking that."

Light just nodded and sighed, sinking a little further into his pillows. "I need to get some sleep."

"Agreed. Would you like to attend a lesser performance since you missed last night's?" L stood slowly and pulled his coat from Light's chair.

"No…I'll be fine."

"So you say, but once you are well again, I don't believe you'll be able to stay calm. You start at the police academy this summer, don't you?"

"Yes…I expect to walk through basic training and straight into the detective's office."

"You will. They consider you far too useful to wait six months to have you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"It wasn't a compliment…we both know it to be simple fact."

L settled into his blankets again as the detective shrugged the light coat on and wondered how the hell he could tolerate the weather. "From you, it's a compliment."

XXXX

Weeks later, Light stood from the desk and straightened his papers. The exam was smooth, and now that it was over, he felt the usual rush of liberation. Two down, and with one more exam, and a final course, his school career would be officially over. He hadn't seen or spoke to L since the detective returned at the end of December. That, too, was liberating. It still bothered him that the man had seen him in his weakness, but he could chalk that up to his pride again and move on.

He felt strangely better now that everything was coming together. His various unfinished works and projects, they were finally wrapping up, and doing it well. He'd graduate top of his class, and he sometimes wondered what he would have done if he'd dropped out in the middle. God knew, Light had considered it on more than one occasion, simply because he was bored. It was possible to get a job and maybe even get into the police force without a degree. It would have been more of a challenge than sitting through hours upon hours of prep classes and course work, working his ass off simply because he could.

It was still winter, cold and clear today, with a bright blue sky and old snow melting in patches on the ground. He donned his jacket without glancing at the other four students still working, knowing that at least one of them was watching him from the corner of their eye. He always got the worst looks when he finished his tests early. It made him smug, and he did it to keep from smirking back at them. There was no need to ruin his nice-guy image…it was hard to keep it up as it were, with the concerts so far apart.

He donned his scarf and picked up his messenger bag before leaving the exam at the desk with the old professor. Roger smiled at him, and waved him out early.

Light stepped out into the cold and inhaled deeply. He already knew that he was going to freeze, there was no point in trying to maintain his current body heat…it'd only make him shiver, and that was one of the most undignified things he could think of. Instead, Light welcomed the cold, and set out across the campus, heading for the café and a hot cup of coffee. Along the way, he passed something white, something glaringly white, and he cursed these foolish girls and their white coats. The snow was blinding enough, and he hardly found them cute. The thought that it hadn't been big enough to be a coat crossed his mind, but it faded rapidly as the café came into view at the corner.

He slid in the door just as the wind pick up and sent flurries of loose snow out of the shadows and into the air. Shrugging the chill off, he eased into a booth at the back of the room with a hot cup in his cold hands and his application to the training academy on the table. He'd filled it out months ago, but he planned on turning it in after he'd finished all of his tests. They'd told him they'd make and exception, and work around his final course hours. He planned to talk to the professor first and then let them know what those hours were.

He'd just added the cream when, apparently out of no where, L slid in across from him. Light almost dropped the cream decanter, staring at him.

"Light-kun, I apologize for another intrusion, but it is warranted. We need to talk."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Light had heard him, yes, but his mind was still reeling. The paranoia, though nothing like it used to be, refused to die completely, and instinctively, Light became angry. "L…we had an agreement…this is too much."

"No, no it's not…not yet. Bear with me, because I'm about to make you very angry."

"My utter lack of surprise annoys me."

"Light-kun, be serious."

"I assure you that was hardly a joke. You're going to make me angry, I was expecting it for some reason, and that fact pisses me off. What the hell do you want?"

L fell quiet for a moment, which only furthered Light's downfall in mood. He downed half his cup and slammed it back to the table, staring out the window so he didn't have to look at him. L bit his thumb hard and considered him. Light finally snapped, "Well, what is it?!"

"I may be about to ruin our friendship. I don't like that."

Light paused, staring at him. That bad, really? "L…what have you done?"

"Something any other person would love and adore me for, but…you I think…I think you'll want to hurt me."

Light stared.

L stared back.

"Shall we walk?" Light suggested, stuffing his papers back into his bag. L nodded and they left together. Wandering across campus, they were still silent. Light noticed that L was still barefoot, but he did avoid the patches of snow and water on the sidewalk. He almost wished it would randomly snow, just to make the older man miserable. He contented himself with imagining that, the detective covered in melting snow, his wild hair plastered to his head with cold water…

"I have done something…Sneaky, I'm afraid. Something vaguely dishonest."

"I get the feeling that is not an uncommon thing with you."

L frowned and kicked snow, shaking the excess water from his foot after. "Usually, it is part of my job description. However, I have been very honest with you, and in truth, I have enjoyed it immensely. It's nice to not have secrets to keep. There are things you don't know, that is true, but I am not trying to hide them from you. They simply have not come up in conversation or-"

"L, you're rambling."

"…I tend to do that when I'm upset about something. I over-analyze trying to make sense of it all, and it makes it hard for me to be understood."

"You're still rambling."

Light stopped, and the detective did too, albeit reluctantly. So he was going to be angry…at least L had given him that much. L was staring at him now, his thumb guiltily at his lips.

"L?"

L shook himself, turning to look through the fence at the tennis court they'd wandered to. "I have hidden something from you."

"I expected as much. Why would that be such a big deal?"

"Because I did it consciously…I did not know how to approach you with the topic a year ago, and we had just become comfortable. I didn't want to seem overbearing."

"You ruined that the first time we spoke, L. You are an overbearing person…so am I. What have you done?"

L glanced back at him and quickly away again. Light was growing impatient, and he reached and snatched the man around. "Just tell me! You're only making it worse…"

"I…", That seemed to startle him a bit, and he licked his lips once and did just that. "I'm…the one that sponsored the courses you took this year. The academy did not come by the money and professors…I hired them, and all three were privately funded."

"…Come again?" Light's shock didn't quite cover the rage that was beginning to boil at the base of his skull.

"I…directly interfered…with your life…again. I wanted to take part in your training, because you're quite brilliant, I think I would…greatly enjoy working with you."

"So you _tampered_ with my _school system_?"

"Not really, I just kind of…bluffed it. They are all highly trained professionals from a private staff, and your coursework is valid, I promise."

"You…you just played me right into your hand, didn't you?"

L opened his mouth, and closed it again. He nodded.

Light punched him. He punched him, and nothing in the world had ever been more glorious. The man had outright lied to him, because he'd been told that it was all government sponsored, and the courses were a permanent addition to the curriculum. He caught him by the shirt and pulled him back, snapped his head to the side with a sharp right hook.

He'd been right. Light was ready to kill him. Hours, upon hours, upon weeks, months, an entire fucking year that he could have been in the Homicide department, solving cases…

Light picked him up and slammed him against the tennis cage, cold water raining on them from the chain-link, melted snow in it's miserable glory.

"Light-kun, I am sorry." L looked sullenly back at him, not even trying to defend himself. That slowly began to kill Light's fire, and he slammed him against it once more, trying to goad him into a fight.

"That's a year of my life gone to a lie, L. An outright _lie_. I could have been working the entire year."

"Instead you gained knowledge you wouldn't have otherwise…knowledge that I couldn't give to you in any other fashion. Would you have accepted my offer a year ago Light-kun?"

"No…No I wouldn't have, but it should have been my choice."

"It was your choice. I just offered it under someone else's name."

"This is too much, L. Too fucking Much…" Light dropped him, looking anywhere but at the fallen detective. L picked himself up out of the snow.

"Light-kun…"

"Shut up." He frowned, but offered nothing further and Light was glad for it. He was ready to beat the man within an inch of his life. How dare he waltz into Light's life and fuck it up so badly…it was fucking ridiculous. He had no right. None. "Back off, L."

"I expected to. I'd planned to tell you before the coursework was finished, but with the case, and the distance…it didn't seem the best of times. I'd rather tell you in person."

Light turned to stare at him and L held his gaze, a dark bruise starting in his cheek. "There's more isn't there?"

"…Yes."

"What?"

"The next course…there is no professor."

"Meaning?"

"I'd be teaching you personally."

There was a long moment of tense silence between them, and Light gave a bitter chuckle. "Sure…why not? You can't seem to leave well enough alone anyway. I'll take the fucking class."

"That is good to hear. Are we-"

"Still friends? I don't know. I really don't know." Light shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. "I don't want to see you again for two months, understood? Just…keep your fucking distance."

"Light-kun, you have another exam today…where are you going?"

"I'm sure Professor L can reschedule it. I'm going home…and I think , next concert, I'm taking the taxi home too, thank you very fucking much."


	4. Chapter 4

Light was running. There was no other term for it, and though he slowly walked away and left L standing barefoot in the snow, he was running for all he was worth…away from L, away from campus, away from everything. This was too much. There simply weren't better words to describe it. Too much happening, too much changing…and L was starting to treat him like everyone else…a commodity more than a person. Perhaps if they spent more time together, it wouldn't have seemed that way at all…but the way it was, Light felt like the detective was just taking advantage of him.

He wasn't sure where he going, but he was only mildly surprised to find a teller sliding him money across the counter. He texted his sister, letting her know where he was going and that he'd be late, but…even then, he wasn't sure. Passing the glass doors and talking to the woman selling tickets, he finally got an idea.

However, it wasn't until he was finally admitted, after flashing L's card, and hating him for it…not until he slid into his old seat, the old perspective from the right a welcome difference…not until he leaned back, a program in hand, staring at an empty stage did he know where he was.

He supposed he was a creature of habit, as people of his intellect often are. He supposed that he was being ridiculous in running here, because the show wouldn't start for another four hours. He supposed that the usher thought him insane, but as he stared out across the silent void, the warm glow of soft lights shining on wood highlighting the subtle details of the room, he didn't care. This…this was better than home. This was better than a park, an empty classroom, and a far sight better than L's company. Even in silence, there was power in this room, echoes of great voices being called to mind as he surveyed the empty stage. Beethoven on a grand piano…Violinists dancing on Bach's strings…the entire body moving as one to accommodate the drunkenly dramatic flair of Mozart…

Peace. Peace in a world that mocked time, which relished the old days and locked out the world beyond its doors. A world of changes that in reality, was just like his own, and yet so very different. A world that was powerful; one that existed only to remind him of those that came before, so that he could find peace in the simplicity of their genius. Music…it lay along his bones, in the darker corners of his mind it played continuously because he could not let it go.

It healed him. It took away his pain, rebuilt him when the world wore him thin. It cleansed him of all anger, of his sorrows and if he came with joy, he left with ecstasy. That was the power the old voices had, the timeless strength endowed to shaped wood and metal. It was an escape, simple and clean cut…but it never coddled him. It only lasted so long, perhaps two to three hours, and then it was done. Then he would leave, and learn to face his problems. He would walk down the stairs a renewed man, and he would be capable of fixing whatever had driven him here in the first place.

Could he fix L?

The answer was easy, frighteningly so. Yes, he could. He could simply walk out, hand him his pass, and buy his own. That would put an end to all of his new problems, in one nice easy decision. The detective would be gone, he'd wouldn't have to deal with him ever again…

Was it that simple? Would L respect his wishes? Likely not, but that was something easily dealt with.

Then again, it was that kind of thinking that landed him in his current situation, with a powerful friend that didn't respect him. The only simple thing about the detective was that nothing was ever simple with him. He consistently defied expectation, either by completely ignoring it, or going far beyond.

This wasn't about L, however, and he wasn't going to bring L into it. He glanced over at the two seats in the center that they shared now, and frowned. No, L was not in the theatre, and he should stay away for now. This was Light's escape again, and if he had to come here alone, buy tickets to a show he didn't even know the name of, just to get away, then he would. He simply would.

Something needed to change, and drastically. He needed to make a decision that was purely his, one that no one else had a say in. His choices at this point were limited. As L had once told him, everyone knew everything about him. He'd written so many acceptance speeches that any student at the university could recite what his 'hopes and aspirations for the future' were in the same boring monologue that he recited them in. He was almost a public figure.

He could move. The thought came to him with a startling clarity. He hadn't actually considered it before, because in reality, he had a good family. With the exception of his father, he wasn't overly close to the rest of them…but they all respected him and his space. The thought of moving out, of having a place of his own had never occurred to him, not with any serious consideration put behind it. He'd passed furniture in stores and thought to himself 'If I had a place of my own, I'd buy that…', and that was the extent of it.

Right now, it sounded incredible. A place under his name, Light Yagami's home. It would be almost as good as the theatre, and he was fairly sure that L wouldn't dare intrude there. L again, why L? L didn't matter, and had nothing to do with this. He stared out across the stadium and crossed his legs, considering the stage intently. There were several apartment complexes downtown that he could browse through…and some cheaper ones around the outskirts. The edge of the city tended to be dangerous territory, but he doubted he'd have to worry about it. Besides, if nothing else, it'd remind him why he was a detective.

In any case, he was twenty-two, twenty three next month, and as far as he was concerned, a college graduate. There was no reason for him to stay, either. He was fairly sure his parents would take the news well…It was a mature decision on his part.

He stayed a little longer, basking in complete silence and musing about how he had been wrong. This…this place…this was the only thing that never asked anything of him. This was the only place where everything made sense, and there was a clarity here that he wouldn't trade for the world. He made a note to search for apartments in the surrounding area.

XXXX

Light was sitting at his desk, leafing through apartment listings when his door opened and closed again. He turned to find L leaning on it, and turned back to his magazine, his face and tone devoid of emotion.

"I thought I told you two months."

"Did it not occur to you that your lessons would begin before those two months were up?"

No, it hadn't, but he'd been angry at the time. He still was, but he figured being distant would anger the detective more than another yelling session. "What are you doing here?"

"You are my only student. I see no reason to waste time in a classroom when everything I plan on doing takes place outside of one."

"Is there a reason you waited until eight at night to come by?" Light pointed at his clock without turning around. He heard L sigh behind him.

"I'm not interrupting."

"That's what happens when you randomly show up at people's houses. You interrupt them."

"You're not busy. All you're doing is searching for an apartment, and I already know that you've narrowed the possibilities down to three. I also have a good idea which of them you've seriously considered."

Light turned to stare at him, his hands pausing over the paper. L deadpanned, almost rolling his eyes. "I'm the single greatest detective in the world, Light. I'm quite tired of that being an understated fact with you. I told you I could find out anything I wanted to know…considering your mood, it wasn't hard to follow the logic."

"So because I hit you a few times, you thought I'd move out? I'm tired of you talking about how I'm your equal and then treating me like my father. You're not the only genius in the room."

"I'm quite aware of that." L paused for a second, reaching behind himself to lock the door. Light returned his gaze arms crossed, still refusing to show an expression of any kind. L seemed to be considering his words. "…Quite frankly, I knew because it's what I would have done."

Light's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly…being compared to the detective is not something he was willing to listen to right now. "How charming. Get out."

"To be frank with you, Light-kun, I'm quite sick of you thinking of me as a problem, and not a person." Light didn't move, and L continued quietly. "I thought we were past this."

"I've told you how this would work."

"Can you really look me in the eye and tell me that I was never your friend?"

Light said nothing, and L moved to sit on his bed without invitation, putting him much closer to Light and annoying him to no end. He was sitting on Light's _bed_, for Christ's sake…

"I know that you have likely worked yourself into believing that this is merely another ploy to use you, as people tend to do. I must say that it was not my intention, and the thought never crossed my mind."

"…I do know better." Light sighed, leaning back in his chair. He laced his hands behind his head and regarded the detective quietly. "It's the fact that you outright lied to me. I think I would have been mature enough to at least seriously consider the proposal before deciding on an answer. It should have been my choice."

"It was."

"But you lied to me. It kind of ruins the novelty of having you as a professor. I could have been working all that time…."

"The things that you learned will prove valuable to you in the field. I promise that I did not waste your time."

"Why didn't you just…tell me?" Light turned to his desk and began putting his things away, trying to keep his temper. L sighed behind him.

"Light-kun, I wish you would look at me when we talk. I do not care if it makes your temper flare…it's a matter of respect."

"You've no right to call me on respect after the stunt you pulled."

"Yes…Yes I know. I'm…." L stopped suddenly, burying his mouth behind his knees. Light turned to look at him, and this time L looked away.

"What is it?"

"In the entirety of my life, I have never felt the need to apologize for anything that I've done. Nothing at all, whether I was wrong or not." L stared out his window now, glaring sullenly into the dark. "I barely know you. Over the course of almost four years, I have come to achieve some kind of anonymous friendship with you. In the last three months, I have apologized to you…four times."

The detective glanced back at him. "And I just opened my mouth to do it again. I do not know why your opinion is seemingly more important than those of others, but it bothers me greatly. So when I apologize for something, do not ever take it lightly. It is not in my nature to regret my actions, especially those that are in reality a help to other people…no matter how stubborn they insist on being. I put a lot of time and effort into finding those professors, and I tested them myself before presenting them to you. I wanted to be sure they were enough of a challenge to be of benefit. I realize that the lengths I went to in order to hide this from you were quite extreme, but I do not regret it. So no, I will not apologize again."

"I never asked for your apology, L." Light returned the gaze steadily, but in spite of himself, he was tired of being angry.

"No, but you have not forgiven me, either. The fact that it troubles me is quite bothersome."

"I know the feeling." Light glanced at his watch, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He caught himself at it, and stopped, forcing his hands to his knees. "When is the next concert?"

"The January showing is in three weeks."

"Compo-"

"Mozart."

"…Okay." Light stood and crossed to his closet, loosening his tie. He could feel dark eyes on his back, but at this point, he was far too fed up with being irritated to let it bother him. He needed to relax, and with the next showing so close, and yet so far, he needed to find a different outlet. Listening to music would only make the concert seem farther away, so that was out.

He slipped his tie off and hung on the doorknob. "It's only eight-thirty…Feel like walking?"

L's expression lifted considerably, and he stood too. "That sounds…good."

"Do you have shoes?" Light glanced at his bare feet before unbuttoning the top of his shirt slightly, intending to leave comfortable. "I can lend you some."

"Is it wet?"

"The snow's stopped for now, but it's going to be damn cold."

"I would appreciate some shoes then. I cannot stand it when the hem of my jeans becomes wet."

Light merely nodded and toed an old pair of his sneakers out while he dug for a jacket. He pulled out his faded black leather coat, and without even bothering to ask, handed L one of his bigger jackets. The detective seemed to like his clothing a little looser.

"You may drive us into town, if you wish." A jingle of keys, and Light turned to him, surprised.

"I was only planning on going around the block or something."

"…I want ice cream."

Light stared for a second and had to remember that he was angry with the man. He didn't catch the amused smirk in time, however, and just shook his head as he took the keys. Apparently, he'd forgiven L, whether he wanted to or not. Light knew he was capable of holding a grudge like a woman, but there didn't seem to be much point to it anymore. He was used to people bowing and scraping at his feet when they upset him, so L's refusal to apologize twice robbed his attitude of its usual fire. The irony of it made it that much harder to stay angry.

XXXX

They didn't speak, and that was fine. Light was steadily calming down as they walked through the downtown area. They'd gotten out of the house without much trouble, and Light had found a grin on his face when he exited to find a sleek black car parked behind his father's in the driveway.

Light liked cars…he didn't know why. Granted, he'd never collected car magazines as a boy, nor had he asked for miniatures or posters. He didn't know the difference between a Ferrari and a golf cart, but they'd always fascinated him. He'd always stopped to notice a fine car parked on the street outside a store, and loud engines tended to make him grin. Regardless, the keys were in his hands, and he was going to enjoy this, L be damned.

L had almost climbed in the back seat, and Light knew immediately that this was Watari's vehicle. When he slid into the driver's side, the mirrors were all wrong, and the seat itself was a little too far back and upright.

If Light had been angry when he left the house, it was all replaced by an irrepressible glee when L clutched at the door in shock as he roared down the street. The detective fumbled the seatbelt into place, but Light glanced over to find him grinning too. They'd gunned it all the way to the downtown, and Light only let up after a few close calls in city traffic. Still, when he'd finally parked, and both climbed out, they'd been laughing.

"If Watari knew I let you abuse his Bentley in this fashion, he would have both our licenses revoked."

"I wouldn't blame him actually." And that had been that.

Now they strolled down the street in an almost comfortable silence, walking without destination. The night crowd was just now out and the streets were full of young people. They reached the ice cream parlor and decided not to stay because of the noise and attention. It seemed that every college student in To-Oh was in the city, and they all insisted on greeting Light by name. L stood by and idly downed his strawberry cup while Light talked them out of joining students for movies, dinners, game arcades…it was quite tiresome.

Bad timing and popularity aside, the walk itself was serving its purpose. Being fairly quiet in a crowd granted a certain anonymity that suited them both. Once they passed the usual college hangouts, they went undisturbed, merely two more faces in the rush of Tokyo's nightlife. Light eventually began to relax, the mindless task of walking easing his mind. There was another concert coming soon, and this would have to hold him over until then…it wouldn't be hard to do. He glanced over at L to find that the detective seemed to be sharing his thoughts on the matter. They didn't talk, there was nothing to be said, and while they were out here together, they weren't walking together. L had just given him a ride.

It began snowing around nine, and Light merely sighed and turned his collar up. He hated the snow, and the memory of his rare bout of flu a month ago in December still haunted him. Light rarely ever succumbed to sickness, but when he did, it was terrible. Even thinking about it made him feel weak.

They were passing the movie theatre when their accursed timing paid off in full. Light and the detective walked by without stopping, Light idly kicking snow and L looking for a garbage can to throw his empty ice cream cup away in. A movie let out, and the almost empty sidewalk was suddenly swamped with people. L, rather than fight his way back across the rush to Light, he rolled his eyes and leaned on the pillar next to the garbage can. Light chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, a much unwanted voice hailed him from the crowd.

"Light-Kun!" It was not L, feminine and high pitched and an assault on his ears. He turned to find one of his few ex-girlfriends, Yuri, exiting the theatre with a few of her friends. He hadn't spoken to her since…he actually couldn't remember. She was a year behind him. It didn't bode well for the coming conversation. He glanced back at L once to find an amused look on his face, and sighed.

The girl fought her way through the crowd as politely as possible, half a box of popcorn in one hand and a large fountain drink in the other. She was smiling, so he supposed it wasn't going to start badly at least.

"Light, I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?"

"I'm…fine. Working."

"Oh, you're always so busy…Is that really what happened? I mean, we haven't gone out since…well, almost exams." She frowned slightly. Light took it as a sign that there was no way to sugar coat this for the undergrad. His stomach turned as he made a connection with his little sister Sayu…they were wearing similar jackets.

"Well…I'm not at the university anymore."

"…What's that supposed to mean? Why haven't you returned my calls?" Her mood was plummeting quickly, and worse, her friends were edging their way across the mob of people to back her up.

"…I told you, I've been busy."

"So, because you've graduated, you don't have time for me anymore, is that it?"

"…Yuri, listen."

"It is isn't it?" Her expression tensed, and he felt a sinking feeling as the first tears appeared in her eyes. "You…You're not in school, so I'm not convenient anymore."

He was fighting a losing battle. "Yuri, I never…"

"So what…we're not dating anymore?" There was a collective gasp from her arriving friends, and if looks could kill, Light would have been a dead man. He chose instead to wipe his face of expression and let her carry this through, because she obviously didn't need his help figuring it out.

"…Okay, Yagami. Fine." She took a deep breath, and then rather calmly threw the rest of her drink into Light's face.

Light stood absolutely still, eyes closed as what smelled like orange soda rolled down his face. Never in his life had he desired to backhand a woman this much, and the violent tremors made his fist tighten in his pockets. He made no move to wipe the drink away, though against his will, his features twisted into something like a snarl. Light didn't mind being dirty…he could handle dirty, as long as it was a result of work of some kind, and there was a shower easily accessible. However, he was not just dirty…he was _sticky_. It absolutely turned his stomach, and he usually liked orange soda. He doubted he'd ever drink it again.

God, he wanted to hit her…so badly his fingers tingled. She seemed to realize that, even though she herself was angry, she'd crossed a line, and turned to leave. He listened to her go without opening his eyes, standing there in something close to an arrested state of rage. There were people everywhere, staring at him, and he didn't have to open his eyes to know that even L was amused by this little spectacle. It was fucking humiliating.

"Let's get you home to change." He could hear the smirk in the detective's voice, but that at least meant that the crowd had died down enough that he could cross. Light forced a hand to unwrap its fist and reached to wipe his eyes clear. He opened them just in time to see his ex-girlfriend disappear around the corner at the end of the block.

"Light-kun?"

"Shut up…I'm thinking."

The detective sounded mildly surprised. "Do you regret ending the relationship? You can still catch her."

"No." Light took a deep breath. A moment of silence, and orange soda dripped down his throat and slipped beneath the warm confines of his coat. He twitched. "I'm trying to find a way to say that I deserved that without actually confessing guilt."

"How about… 'That was quite rude.'?"

Light considered it. "It works. That was quite rude."

XXXX

"I'm not seeing the alias, I'm seeing Light Yagami." L corrected him again, and Light sighed. This 'course' consisted of L taking him to various public places and functions and asking him to develop a completely different persona. It was essentially a class on how to maintain an alias, but the work was as diverse and eccentric as the man teaching him.

They never worked in a classroom, and instead traveled the whole of Japan, riding trains and working wherever L found most interesting on their trips out. Sometimes, it was merely a cup of coffee to test his observation skills in a little café, and others it was the library for an intensive bout of research on a historical case. They even spent an entire day just riding the trains and studying the people that boarded and left. It was interesting, though the complete randomness of it grated on Light's order-bound personality. They worked whenever L felt like working, and because Light was still undergoing training at the Police Academy, that was most often whenever Light had free time. In short, his life was once again consumed by forensics and logic, and it was something that eased his mind greatly. L knew just how to make him think, how to challenge him, and by their fifth time out, Light had completely forgiven him for the slight. At least he made it worth Light's while.

It was nearing the middle of April, and Light had finally settled into a new apartment. It was strange to be out of his home, but it gave him the gratification he'd been looking for, and he'd moved forward with his feet firmly planted. He'd joined the Academy just to annoy L, and while they worked around his training, it was tiring. It was a good kind of tired, however…the kind that left him feeling like he was accomplishing his goals and moving in the right direction. L had respected his apartment so far, and though Light still hadn't invited him up, the arrangement suited them both.

L put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him entirely. Today, Light was learning to be kind, and open. It was difficult for him, because even acknowledged that he was an arrogant, proud individual…he bordered narcissism when dressed nicely. L had started him off easily, by asking him to assume an already developed persona. Daneuve, apparently, was one of L's many aliases…which said something, because the entire world thought them to be two different people. Light didn't know much about the other, and L insisted that he 'redevelop' the character because he wanted to see how close Light could get without guidance.

Not close at all. The fourth time L put a hand on him to stop him, Light lost his patience.

"I don't get it. How can walking help me understand a persona?"

"It's not walking to understand the persona, it's understanding the persona that determines the walk."

"It's…inconsequential. There's no point."

"Light, when your life depends on an alias, you have to become an entirely different person. Speech patterns, gestures, thought processes…it all matters."

"If I were working in the field, I'd likely understand it better."

"I whole-heartedly agree, but it's something that you need at least basic knowledge of before you fall headlong into dangerous territory. I work freelance, and there are dozens of countries who openly resent that fact."

"How many aliases do you have?"

"Fourteen….six of which work for the other eight."

"Work for them?"

"In reality, Watari is my only assistant, but because I am more than one detective, we needed more than one assistant role."

Light sighed, staring out across the square. "I just don't see how big a difference it can make…I'm sorry."

"Look…I'll show you." L pulled his hands out of his pockets and pointed to the fountain they'd been circling for the last two hours. "I'm going to walk to that fountain as L, and back as Daneuve. Pay attention to everything."

Light sat on the bench behind them and gestured him off sarcastically. L glanced around almost self-consciously and set out across the pavement. His head was down, but his eyes were up, challenging despite the rest of his body language. His shoulders remained withdrawn, and his steps were light and brisk. It was the L that Light was familiar with, and when his head shifted slightly to the side, Light knew enough to deduce that of the three girls the detective had just passed, the he'd considered one of them attractive. It made him smirk a bit, and despite himself, he leaned forward as the detective neared the fountain. No one in the square glanced at him, or paused as he went by. L stood there a minute, staring into the water, and Light peered across the open space.

The change was sudden, and unmistakable. L stood straight, his shoulders broad, and Light realized with a shock that they were actually very close in build…L was severely underweight. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and shifted his weight to one side, regarding the fountain with crossed arms. Light could not fathom the expression on his face right now, and found that wholly remarkable. L glanced up, tilting his head back to look at the sky as though thinking about something vaguely important, and then he turned around.

Light's eyes were wide, he knew, but there was no covering his surprise. L looked around the square openly and started back. One hand slipped, not stuffed, its way into his jeans pocket and the other came to push his hair behind his ear. A vendor hailed him, and L paused with a broad grin on his face, side-tracking to check the man's wares. He browsed with animated curiosity before selecting something small that Light couldn't make out from this side of the pavement. Money exchanged hands with a smile and a small laugh at a joke…Light wasn't sure who told it. L waved a farewell, and strolled, not shuffled, across the square towards Light's bench. His smile was…infectious.

Light found himself grinning back, an eyebrow raised in amusement as something clicked into place. The detective tossed his package into the air as he walked, juggling it one handed as though satisfied with the world in general. He came to stand before the bench and winked once before tossing a small, brown leather folio into Light's lap.

Light picked it up, and glanced back up. The persona dropped, and the easy smile shifted into that challenging smirk that was L again. Light nodded to himself, thumbing the pages of the small notebook as L slipped onto the bench next him.

"So…Daneuve is a woman."

"Yes."

"And yet, in public, you merely come across as slightly effeminate, so the mistake could be played off if you were ever located."

"Precisely."

"I get it now."

"Understanding and being able to do it are two completely different things. You are becoming an entirely new person."

"You could have told me it was a woman…that might have simplified things."

L chuckled and gazed out at the fountain again. "No, I think it would have made you slip into a stereotype, and that's not my goal."

"Stereotype."

"Light-kun, you do not have a very high opinion of women."

"True, but that's not their fault."

"Yet, by holding standards such as yours, you limit your ability to adopt a feminine persona, and in some ways, any persona at all."

"What makes you think that?"

"I mean that everyone has both feminine and masculine traits. However, we regard these traits as belonging to other people."

"And by belonging to other people, they can never belong to us…making it harder to assume a second identity-"

"By reason of exclusion." L finished, grinning. He stood and stretched, and Light sat there for another minute, reviewing the scene in his mind. The change had been definite, but now that he'd seen it in action, the concept made much more sense to him. "So…ready to try again?"

"Sure. Do I still have to be Daneuve?"

"No, but I want you to be someone other than yourself."

For some reason, Watari was the first person that popped into his head, and once there, the English gentleman wouldn't leave. Light considered what he knew of the man and his mannerisms before standing. He stood slowly, allowing for rheumatism in the knees, and forced himself to relax his expression into something less harsh…something he hoped was kind. L smiled and nodded, then waved him forward.

Light was too young to have arthritis of any kind, and too physically fit for it, so he shifted it to an old injury in his left knee.

"That's a crutch."

"Hmm?"

"You're still developing, so I'll let it slide, but having some kind of injury this early on in your training is a crutch. It's something defining, easy to duplicate. I don't think you'd continue to use it if it became an everyday practice."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, don't stop and I'll explain." L nodded and fell into step behind him. Light maintained his slight limp and the detective continued. "The limp isn't defined in terms of the actual injury…If I had basic knowledge of the human anatomy, I'd be able to tell it was false. Now, part of it is the fact that it's your first shot at the illusion. Here, stop for a minute."

Light held up and L came to his side and knelt. "Let's go ahead and work on this…Let's say that you've damaged the kneecap and split the shin. How would that affect your gait?"

"It would make it stiffer…likely put pressure on the nerves and damaged the underlying cartilage, meaning that the actual movement of the joint would be slightly impaired." Light replied smoothly. "And I wouldn't want to keep it because I'd have to take into consideration the type of injury every time I moved…even just crossing my legs while sitting."

L grinned at him again, and Light was proud of himself. "Yes, exactly. More often, it's not worth the effort of standing out."

"However, there may be cases when I'm relying on an alias to draw a person out. My mannerisms could sufficiently limit my work with suspects, or it could shift attention away from the investigation itself."

"Right. So, try again, and let's see a defined injury."

Light thought about it for a moment, idly tensing each muscle in his leg to get an idea of his task. When he set off again, his steps were harsher, trusting the ball of his left foot take the weight instead of the heel to minimize the pressure in his knee.

"Excellent. Much better. Now, as far as the rest of it goes, you're doing fine. I want to see a little less distrust, and a little more dignity. You're doing well considering you don't know the man very well at all. Watari would be flattered."

Light shook his head and stopped entirely. "No…I couldn't maintain that one if I had to."

"Why not?" L's thumb came to his lips, and Light found himself wondering if this was just another persona too. He shrugged.

"It's too old…You can't fake wisdom, at least not long enough to define a person for several years." Light paused, and L chuckled at him. "Something funny?"

"Not funny per say…just noticing another little detail I didn't see until now."

"What?"

"You lick the edge of your teeth when you think about something. I usually can't see it because your mouth is closed, but you paused mid-sentence this time."

Light stared at him, surprised. He did it once on impulse, and the natural feel of the motion surprised him. "Hm...I guess I do, don't I?"

"Yes…you hover on the canines. What were you thinking about?"

Light shrugged and continued walking, leaving the square to take them towards a café in the area. "Just musing to myself about how it'd be easier to build a persona out pieces of yourself...supplement the new variations with smaller antics to make a new whole."

"On that note, I'm buying you a drink."

"…Why?"

"Because you just got the entire point of the lesson three weeks before it was actually over."


	5. Chapter 5

AN- Much more music in this one. This came to me quickly, so I present it to you ahead of schedule. Thank you for reading! -Mikanis

Mozart. Drunkenly dramatic, amusing, and lighthearted…his music was his personality placed into notes. Genius on paper, and it was rare that there was an entire performance dedicated to his work. It was hard to find musicians talented enough to pull it off without flaw. Light suspected that his theatre set a golden standard, and there were rarely new faces in his ensemble, because one had to audition to the theatre's standards before even being hired. He loved that about it…over the years, he'd come to recognize several members of the orchestra. When they wandered the halls after the show, he'd often found himself shaking hands with a few. Until L appeared with Watari and they headed out for the night.

Light was in a peculiar mood tonight…it was rare that he chose to wear black. When he opened his closet, the thought of the type of music he'd be hearing never crossed his mind. In fact, not much had except the color black. On a whim, he'd indulged it, and he stood before the mirror now, dressed head to toe in immaculate obsidian linens. It was an old suit, one he usually reserved for funerals, but it was custom tailored for him. It was gift from the NPA when his grandfather, who was also a detective, passed away a few years ago. It'd rarely seen the light of day, and had a faint stale-air scent to it. It wasn't until he stood before the mirror and brushed his hair that he realized that he'd dressed the polar opposite of the upcoming concert. He found he didn't mind.

He looked good in black. He always had. It suited his skin color, brought out his eyes and hair with a startling clarity. Black got him noticed…it'd gotten him scholarships and a better price on his apartment. He wondered if any of the orchestra members would want to talk to him after this performance.

He really was arrogant, he decided. He always had been. He gave his hair another brush-through, just because he enjoyed the sensation, before turning away and strapping his watch on. A final glance to straighten the black silk tie around his throat, and he deemed himself fit for the public. His grandfather would have been proud, to see him wearing the custom-fit two-piece out of the house for pleasure for once. He wandered down the hall of his apartment and into the kitchen for something to drink. The clock caught him off guard, with it being closer to six thirty than he'd originally thought. Light headed towards the door, shutting off lights as he went.

Outside, it was warm. The July sun left the pavement comfortable enough for his dark attire, and the sun cast orange and gold light over the clouds as it set. To the west, the purple of the encroaching night and the rising moon greeted him. He was in a mood tonight, certainly. As he headed down the stairs, he found himself recalling his Grandfather telling him that the evening time was a time of magic, in the pause between night and day. Spirits would be on the move, the trees would whisper their secrets to one another, and to passing travelers for an offering of sweet milk. He was a superstitious man, his Grandfather. Still when the breeze picked up, carrying the sent of the flowers and grass, and hissing through the branches of the saplings that lined the sidewalk, he couldn't help but grin. It was a fine night, one he'd been looking forward to.

He strolled down the path with his hands in his pockets, glad to have them for once. In one pocket, his hand loosely gripped his wallet, though more from habit than need. The gold of his new badge lay in the other, and he intended to show it to L tonight, regardless of whether the older detective thought him childish for it. The breeze picked up again, sending another smile creeping across his features. He couldn't help it…the evening was infectious. He was still grinning to himself when the limousine pulled up at the end of the drive. A figure in a pale shirt stepped out and hailed him, waving. Light pulled a hand from his pocket, wondering that the other's enthusiasm until he remembered that Mozart was his favorite composer. It made him smile harder.

"Fine evening." He remarked as L stood to the side and allowed him to climb into the limo. He took his now customary seat along the long wall, and L resumed his at the end. The car began moving and Light suddenly realized that the detective was staring at him. "Something wrong?"

"I never seen you in that much…black before. Are you upset about something?"

"Strange mood tonight." The detective accepted this answer easily, and Light found he was curious as to what L's 'moods' entailed. The fact that he didn't press him about it, answered the obvious question, but there was great number of things that he could expect from the detective…and an infinite amount that he could not. The man was strange after all. L refrained from putting music on before the concerts, planning to enter the hall with a fresh mind each time. Together, they sat in a comfortable silence, Light looking out the window, and L studying both him and the frayed edge of his jeans.

There was little to be had in the way of conversation, but they'd progressed to a point where it wasn't really needed. It said something, for Light to be able to sit here for half an hour to and from the concerts, and not feel pressured to talk. There was nothing to be said, he felt, and he was comfortable. That, in and of itself, had become almost as important as the music. A year now, and they were done working as student and teacher. Light had been accepted in the NPA Intelligence Bureau with a record-breaking history, and even, a recommendation from L himself.

It made him chuckle now, to think on the level of awe and envy he was treated with when he told the department that L had trained him. Precious few had seen the man in person, but Light…Light was his best friend. It took some of the glory away from the title to know that L liked Hello Panda cookies.

Again, it said something that he could chuckle out loud like that, and neither felt pressured to explain it. L was content to let him laugh, though he did smile a bit at him, around that incessant thumb that he insisted on chewing upon. Still, the silence was an easy one, the rare kinds found after a long laugh at a good joke, or pleasant company after a good meal. The purpose of these trips, of the concerts, was peace…utter serenity when they could not find it elsewhere. After years of shifting and adjusting, they'd managed to achieve a balance that added to the music's power, if nothing else.

And the music…oh the music…each night he found himself amazed by his luck. That he could escape life's hells to go to this one place, this one chapel, and understand life. He could go, and moreover, share it with someone who was so similar to himself. He didn't have to wonder if L caught the rise in the sonata, felt the uplift in tempo…he knew he did. He didn't have to feel…alone anymore. That was something he hadn't expected.

It was certainly nothing he regretted, either.

He was drawn from his thought by movement in the corner of his eye. L was still toying with the rugged edge of his jeans, tugging strings out to fall on the floor. He looked up when he realized that he'd captured Light's attention, but he said nothing. The tugging continued. L was excited, and again, Light was surprised at how easy it'd become to read the things unsaid. Part of it may have been the training L had given him, but he felt that most of it was just camaraderie at work.

"Relax."

"Not until the baton falls. I assure you, I'll be long gone after that."

Light rolled his eyes and was rewarded with L throwing a scrap of string at him. He stared at it for a moment, the white ruining his immaculate black, before plucking it very carefully from his pants leg and tossing it onto the growing pile beneath L's feet. The detective chuckled at him, and promptly went back to playing with the hem. Light found himself glancing through the window at the back of Watari's head. The window was usually left down now, and Light found the man to be naturally grandfatherly, which put him at ease. His Grandfather was someone he'd idolized, and it was a rare treat to find someone who put him in mind of the man…and liked baseball as well.

"How are the knees tonight?" He called to the cab. Watari smiled at him in the rearview mirror, turning the long vehicle around a corner as he replied.

"Oh, the same, son. The left one trembles a little bit, but it hasn't slowed me down any."

"Did they get that mess with your prescription settled?"

"Yes, finally. You'd be amazed at what a nuisance it is to get what you need, not what you're told, these days…"

"That's why I plan to never grow up."

Watari shook his head, laughing at him, and he glanced back to find that L had created a small pile of white strings on his knee while he was distracted. He pursed his lip and brushed them away, but he wasn't in the mood to say anything harsh about it. Let the detective be excited…he deserved it once in a while. The fact that was he carrying on like this only meant that he'd needed this concert. Work had probably been hard on him of late…God knew, it had been on Light.

That reminded him of his badge. He pulled it out and tossed it to the detective, surprised and yet not to see him catch in one hand. Dark eyes turned it over a few times, making a show of inspecting it for him. Just to amuse him, Light knew, and it did. Perhaps he was just easy tonight.

It didn't matter, but L seemed to notice anyway. He sniffed it once, before asking in a completely earnest tone, "Does Light-kun wish me to bite it for him, to assure it is real gold?"

"No, that's quite alright." He held his hand out for it, but the detective stuck it between his teeth and let it hang there. Light gave him a dirty look, childishly proud and possessive of his new NPA Intelligence gold. "L, give it back."

The detective pouted and handed it back to him. "Light-kun is childishly proud of his new badge."

L _was_ in a mood tonight. The parallel thinking got the laugh from him that L had wanted.

"Alright gentlemen, we have arrived. I shall see you after the show."

"Thank you, Watari." Light turned to find L already out and sprinting up the steps, with nary a word to his driver and companion. The two of them shared a knowing shake of the head, and Light got out and followed at a more dignified pace, just to annoy his slender friend. Watari pulled away to park the limousine in the garage on the next block. He likely wouldn't see them again until they were mingling after the concert.

L was almost tapping his foot. Light just gave him a smug look and sauntered through the doors. The glass doors opened into a receiving area and a ticket bay. A flash of the small cards in their wallets got them through the second gate's security and then on into the lobby. The huge glass wall allowed the rapidly setting sunlight in, washing the room in crimson and purple light. Elegant stairs wound up five floors on either side of the bar, and there was a small crowd of people hovering in the center. Already, a few heads were turning in his direction, because he was striking enough on his own, he knew. Put him in black, with a sunset at his back like this…he was getting more than a few points and whispers. It made him grin. A dull voice from behind him broke through his quiet perusal of the crowd.

"If Light-kun is quite finished admiring the scenery and himself, I'd like to go upstairs now."

"I'm finally wearing the perfect outfit in the perfect lighting, and I'm being drug upstairs fifteen minutes early?"

"Light-kun looks nice, but I'm feeling rather shabby standing next to you. So if you don't mind?"

He turned to find L smirking at him, and rolled his eyes. Ironic, that when he was actually in a mood to make an impression on people, his best friend was hardly in the mood to be impressed. Still, Light gestured him up the stairs, and L shoved his hands in his pockets and lead the way.

They entered the loft and found a scene of chaos. Stage hands and musicians alike darted back and forth across the stage and behind the oak-paneled walls to the wings. Mozart was notorious for his complexity, and it was fairly obvious that the entire ensemble was nervous. Still, they went about their tasks as professionally as possible. The stage-manager was a lean man with black hair and a large headset around his throat. He turned to eye the dark for a minute, and the two of them waved. They'd become as much a part of the pre-show preparations as the work being done, and they formed another long distance relationship with this man. He waved back and returned to his chores, directing the stage-hands that were bringing in the baby grand.

Light eyed the woman carefully, but he couldn't tell if she was the same pianist that played the Beethoven concert a few years ago. They looked similar, but there was simply no way of knowing for sure. Still, he liked to imagine that it was…perhaps it was just the timeless feel of the theatre. She soon disappeared backstage. L was fidgeting, and Light actually laughed at him this time. L knew he was being ridiculous, he had to, and he only rolled his eyes and tried to be still.

The entire theatre was abuzz tonight, it seemed. The doors opened ten minutes later, and the crowd came in, bringing the noise level to steady, indiscernible rumble of hushed voices, and the final placement of heavier equipment. The stage manager walked through with each section leader to check his work, and with a final wave of his clipboard, the stagehands were clear to go. The figures in black left the floor quietly and quickly. The rest of the musicians, the violinists and wind section, streamed in, and with a final consensus of hushing, the theatre held its breath.

The leads entered in two rows of three, filing to their separate sections and standing, instruments tucked to their chests or held at their sides. The final whispers and chatter died immediately. One second, two, three, and the conductor swept in, his tail coat flying dramatically. Light was relieved to see such a lively man leading the music…the conductor set the tone of the concert. It was hard to find one seasoned enough to lead a full Mozart concert and still have the stamina to pull it off. He was flanked on either side by the pianist, now in a formal gown, and the lead violinist, also a woman this time.

Light saw L glance at him from the corner of his eye, once, twice as the orchestra stood, and then the detective was on his feet too, looking anywhere _but_ at Light. He just hid his smile behind a hand and resolved not to pick on him…after all he'd done the same for Bach. The detective took his seat again, and L's fingers were actually tapping on the armrest as he waited. There was a group warm-up, something uncommon at this theatre, and each section took a moment to follow its leader in organized chaos. Pages were rapidly flipped, final tuning done, and at last all eyes turned on the conductor. He surveyed his orchestra once and raised his arms.

The baton fell, and the audience at once remembered and forgot how to breathe. Mozart's Violin Concerto in A minor started with a synchronized burst of sound, as though each instrument hailed the audience, and bid it to listen. In the wake of that, came soft violin ascension, with the entire orchestra joining on the high notes like a choir. In musical terms, it was playful banter, the opening joke to welcome a topic into conversation. The laughter died, and the violins carried it through in more serious tones, as though stating what they really thought about it. There was a murmur of agreement, and another rise in the cadence that could have been a final remark and the following laughter.

The lead violinist brought her instrument up, and the notes started slowly, a serenade that spoke of something lovely, something rare. It didn't rise, it flew, and when the orchestra joined, it was a river, brisk, light and cold. She played grandly, standing at the head of her section, and when the soloist challenged the body to follow, the orchestra rose to meet her until one by one, their pieces ended, and she carried on, and up. Higher, faster, broader, until the orchestra was again pulled into the current and dared to uphold it.

Light released a held breath on the first break, almost silently, as though afraid he would interrupt the musicians from three hundred feet away by merely sighing. The second bit started up; once again, the soloist sweeping her bow up across the strings, her notes light as air. Her fingers were stern on the frets, their movement precise and tame, and when the body joined, it was under her lead, because she was running and they were hard pressed to keep up. It built, as gradually each individual instrument found the harmony and asserted itself, their voices growing to challenge, and at the climax, surpassed her lone violin…

Until they died abruptly and she sustained, carrying her single tone, and victorious in the ringing silence she was surrounded by.

The note closed the piece, and even as it faded, it ran through his blood, phantasmal and hollow…like a memory. The second release was brief, and this time the flock of violins led. They started slow, bringing the piece to pace, and then lifting it slightly, like a flock of birds turning at once on a rise of wind. The orchestra met them head on, and retreated again, until they danced with the violinists pulling and the brasses pushing. The winds followed, moving the piece forever forward, until at last, the soloist was coaxed from silence and overtook them all.

There was small sound to his right, but it took him a moment to draw his eyes from the stage and glance at the detective. It was a glance, but as the piece picked up pace, rocking forward to a graceful crescendo, he found himself staring. The soloist drew the piece out, her lingering tones vibrating through his every thought, but it was no longer the stage that commanded his attention. It was L.

Whether his feet had slipped from the chair, or whether he'd put them down himself, Light didn't know. There was suddenly silence, but he didn't move, his heart in his ears as always. The fourth movement picked up with the soloist leading, pulling the body into yet another round, another dance, and the flicker of cognitive thought he'd seen in the detective's eyes faded again. It was startling, light hearted, alive and full, pulling at his soul, but as he glanced at the stage again, he found his eyes drawn back to the person next to him. L reclined slightly in his seat, more at ease than Light had ever seen him. One arm lay limply on the rest, and the other supported his head with his fingers. He stretched himself out, a small, lazy smile upon his face. It was a hooded expression, something intimate that Light had never really considered him capable of.

The soloist carried it higher, and the smile spread slightly, nearing a smirk. Up, and on, and now the music was driving, still as faint and teasing as touches in a dark room, imaginary movement and sounds that pull one around in circles until breath is impossible. On, and on, a challenge, and the body met her round for round, bar for bar. The crescendos were precise, tactful and bold. The decrescendos were slow, lingering enough to make his hands shake. He still watched the detective.

She brought it low, laid it down with a remarkable finesse, and held it there to struggle against the chaotic undertones that begged to fly again. Half a minute, seconds of breathless anxiety, tension rolling through the very heart of the piece until she brought them up again, threw them through the air to soar into the rafters.

L looked at him then.

The heat that slicked down through his chest as those dark eyes, as that _intensity_ was thrust upon him without warning, was comparable to hot oil. It settled low in his stomach and left him dizzy. Light felt himself locked in place, unable to move or even breathe properly as long as that gaze pinned him. The music soared, but he was trapped, here with L, stuck in this moment as every ounce of the restrained tension in this concert slapped him in the face. It set him on fire.

He found there was air in his lungs after all, and it left him in a silent and shaky rush, his mouth still hidden behind his hand. L said nothing as he climbed into Light's soul, merely regarding him as he had the stage, his eyes open. The music hit a crescendo, but Light missed it entirely. It was impossible to look away, and the longer he looked, the more the power of it all crept from his stomach to his blood. It set it running, his heart so loud in his ears that in truth, Light could hardly hear the music anymore. He could feel it, underlying this new shock. It left him breathless, incapable of the simple action of drawing his next bit of air, and left some small sound in his throat that could have been a whimper if this were really happening.

With the panic that accompanied the lack of oxygen, came the strength to move. Light wrenched his eyes away, returned them to the stage as the piece ended. There was applause, but he couldn't coordinate his thoughts long enough to bring his hands together, much less repeatedly and with enough force to generate sound. His every nerve hummed, and the panic-like feeling refused to withdraw completely.

Strangely enough, he wanted to look again.

He couldn't bring himself to turn his head, but L was not clapping either. He was likely too lost in the aftermath of the music to move…but there was the off-chance that he was still staring at Light. The crowd quieted and they eased into the next piece…one Light didn't recognize.

It wasn't a matter of when it happened, because Light knew without looking. It was in the way his shoulder tensed of its own accord, the way he almost leaned away from that magnetic pull, but L was looking at him again, and he knew it. The look that years ago, from hundreds of feet away, had been disconcerting at best was downright disturbing from this distance. Three hundred feet, and he'd been compelled to look back. Here, with a mere foot or less between them, it was almost a touch. It was definitely commanding, and the stage blurred before his eyes as he resisted the twin urge to subject himself to that look again, or just get up and walk away entirely. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

He was being foolish.

What the hell was going on?

There was no possible way that the detective was staring at him again, especially not with any ill intent…with any intent at all, really. Mozart was his favorite composer, and he'd needed the release tonight. He was watching the stage, as he should be, and incapable of coherent thought. In fact, if Light were to shake him, it may even take a moment for the detective to recognize him. Yes, there no possible way that…

He turned his head again, and his confidence bottomed out, fell screaming over the four story balcony. Those dark eyes, almost a part of the shadows themselves, still held him, still watched. A tremor shook him as the connection was made again, but L hadn't moved yet. The hand in Light's lap curled into an uneasy fist, tightened until his knuckles paled…something, anything, to ease this tension.

It was not to last, and another shiver took him as the detective's eyes dropped slightly. Light suddenly didn't know what he was looking at, if he was even looking at _Light_, and it was going to drive him insane. He didn't know if L was staring at his lips or his throat, but neither did anything for his mental processes. Light sat there, every nerve in his body screaming at him, humming with fine-tuned tension that he had nothing to do with, and what the _hell_ was he _looking_ at?

L turned his eyes back to the stage.

Light felt as though he'd been pinned to a wall and suddenly dropped, trapped in one position so long that he'd become stiff. What in God's name was….

The music ended on the second piece, and Light stood, making his way towards the door. He didn't think L was following, or even that he'd noticed that Light was gone, and he was praying to any God that would listen for that to be the case. He slipped out the door quietly during the thunder of applause, and headed down the stairs. Each step felt strange, as if he'd just gotten done running, and was so tired that his body didn't recognize pain signals anymore. He didn't even trust himself to make it down the stairs and settled for the landing where they'd first spoken. Bracing himself on the banister, he stared into his own reflection in the glass and wondered if he was losing his mind. It certainly felt that way.

He glanced at his watch and realized that he had fifteen minutes until intermission. Twenty minutes to get his head on straight before L woke up in the long break, and came looking for him. He wasn't sure if he could look the man in the eye again, and he wasn't even sure why.

The time flew…without mark or complaint, it was suddenly gone, and the little peace he'd had in his empty stairwell vanished with it. He didn't turn, content to ignore the stream of people that passed his little corner of railing as he always had. Until the feeling came back, and he knew before the white blur in the reflection moved that L was there. He'd always known. Before it hadn't mattered, but now…now it had meaning, and it was scary. Just like L knew…like L always knew.

"Something wrong?"

Light found he didn't have an answer. He considered it for a long moment, staring over the rooftops at summer stars and the city's distant glow. He didn't bother shaking his head, because it was nothing worth lying about, and it would only bother the detective more if he picked up on it. Light…didn't like lying to L. Better to be anonymous, distant, but that was no longer possible. L knew him, knew him better than even his family did, and there was no peace to be had in solitude anymore. So he didn't shake his head…and he didn't lie.

"I don't know."

L came to stand next to him, but Light didn't move. He knew that even that subtle lack of acknowledgement would bother his friend, and furthermore, would tell the detective that he himself was the source of the problem. L was a genius.

Of course he caught it.

"What have I done?"

"…Nothing really. You were staring at me again." He didn't have to look to know that L was frowning, displeased with himself. "Don't worry about it."

"Light-kun, I have never known you to get up and leave during a performance. It was obviously something of importance."

Light sighed, and caught himself running his tongue over the edge of his teeth again. It made him smile…ever since that lesson, he'd noticed himself doing it. He straightened, and forced himself to look at the detective. L met his eyes and…nothing. Not a flicker of whatever had passed between them in the theatre. It was at once a relief and a disappointment.

"I assure you, it's more me being in a strange mood that it was your staring."

"It is the first time that I have done it since we met, yes?"

Light nodded and L shoved his hands in his pockets. He continued to regard Light as though trying to figure out exactly what Light was thinking. A long time ago, the look would have bothered him, but now, it was so commonplace that he'd come to accept it as part of the detective's personality and nothing more. There'd been a fair share of give and take, with the two of them slowly coming to know one another better. "It's nothing L. Just let it go."

"I apologize."

"I don't think you even saw me, actually. Perhaps that's what bothered me." That wasn't far from a lie, in reality. It surprised him to realize that he was almost disappointed that the great mind of his companion hadn't acknowledged his presence at all. While it would have been something to have a look that powerful directed at him, however, Light wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it if it ever were. Just being caught in the crossfire had rattled him. "Don't apologize for it. I told you, you haven't done it since we started coming here together, and there really wasn't anything to it. I'm fine."

L stared at him for another moment, but then the concert lights flashed and it was time to return to their seats. L led the way, walking up the stairs and into the auditorium. Light followed, his mind still far away, and apprehensive. It was nothing, really. He'd just spooked himself, allowed the music to wind him a bit too tight for his liking. They took their seats and L chuckled to himself, pulling Light's thoughts back to the present.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking to myself really…the next time I do it, why don't you just turn my head away? God knows, I won't notice."

Light found himself grinning, but inside, a part of him shrunk away from the thought. He'd been unable to move when the detective had…stared. To touch him while pegged like that? It seemed unthinkable, impossible.

Then again, as the lights dimmed for the concert's continuation, the entire event seemed unreal…and it had happened just here, in these seats. Perhaps he was losing his mind after all.

XXXX

God, Light loved to drive. He'd discovered this fact years ago, and made his parents swear not to buy him a car. He'd likely have killed himself before he ever graduated from high school. Even the department had been reluctant to give him a cruiser, and he'd been wary about accepting it. As it stood now, he wasn't going to give it back any time soon. The NPA had maintenance done on every vehicle, every day, ensuring it stayed in top condition for as long as possible. The sleek black machine they'd leased to Light was an undercover model, with lights and sirens hidden behind a civilian exterior. When Light drove, he drove like he was still eighteen, and if Takimura ever caught him at it, he was sure he'd snatch the keys and sentence him to desk work for the next six months.

Takimura was in the office, however… and it was L that he was riding with.

L was years older than Light, but apparently, he'd never had the option of driving like a madman when he'd wanted to. Watari, though stately and efficient in his work, quite literally drove like an old man. Furthermore, his partner was aging more rapidly than he liked to admit, so he'd been trying to limit the amount of driving and physical labor he imposed on the elderly gentleman. Light had agreed to act as his transport when L joined the department on a case, an arrangement that suited them both. L got the ride of his life every time he got in the car, and Light got some kind of assurance that his car would never be requisitioned again. After all, with someone like L demanding use of his vehicle, Takimura had no choice but to make sure one was available. The fact that he requested his prodigy, Light Yagami, by name had helped a bit as well.

Now, they were riding hell from high water up the side of the mountain. Light was taking the turns just a bit too sharp to be safe, and just a bit too slow to be dangerous, grinning despite himself every time his car began to fish-tail slightly towards the railing. He brought it back with expert control however, and he prided himself on being damn good at it, despite his flair. L often accused him of showing off behind the wheel.

Today, Light was driving to distract himself, because there was a big case building that required his full attention. It was a mass murdering case, driven by either one or two criminals. It ranged the whole of Japan, kidnappings and later, an executioner's style shooting. Two shots to the back of the head, and they'd been lucky in that, so far, they were all from the same gun. The ballistics matched, and that meant that when they finally caught up to the murderer, there would be massive evidence aligned against them.

Light glanced at L from the corner of his eye as he rounded a bend, and hit a straight bit of road. It was sharp incline, leading up the side of the mountain to a small town famous for its cherry blossoms. It was late summer, and the blossoms would long be gone, but the town was still nice enough to have a tourist-based economy. Past the detective, over the cliff, there was the ocean and a view that stretched for miles of blue Pacific water. L seemed almost out of place in the sunlight, with his white and black dominated appearance. Even with the sun roof open, he was still hopelessly pale, without hope of ever nursing the bronze tan that Light did each summer.

The concert was less than a month ago, but it still crossed his mind occasionally. Usually it only happened when L was present, and happened to be looking at him, much to his ire. It wasn't something worth considering, he thought, but every time he watched Light for more than a few seconds now, it invaded his thoughts. It often made him pause, which to Light, was thoroughly annoying, because then he had to recover and either play it off, or ignore it completely. It made him feel like he was hiding something, but the thought of trying to logically explain the situation only served to offend his rationality.

"May I ask what Light-kun is thinking so deeply about?"

Light chuckled, "You, actually."

"While that is quite flattering, I would appreciate it if Light-kun would think about the _road_." L snapped.

Light glanced up to realize that not only was he doing ninety and fast approaching the turn, but he was doing it in the wrong lane, inching closer and closer to the mountain side. He corrected himself, and L visibly relaxed.

"At the risk of distracting you further, I was wondering if you have developed any theories on the case yet?"

"Other than the fact that Matsuda can't handle a camera, not really. They've managed to stay out of the light rather well."

"Yes, I agree. You seem to think that there is more than one person involved?"

"Well, don't you? The person that kills is very large. The victims that struggled have been terribly abused, sometimes over the course of an entire week before the execution actually occurs."

"Yes, it does seem likely that someone that…violent would have trouble convincing his victims to come willingly. I'm of the opinion that the secondary is smaller…perhaps a woman to act as bait."

"The real question is whether or not the secondary is willing…are they enticing these boys away from the public with the intent to kill them, or are they being forced to-"

"Light-kun!"

Light slammed on the brakes, veering towards the cliff wall to avoid the car hanging over its rim. The tires squealed, the steering wheel shaking violently in his hands, and they slid by the car's bumper with inches to spare. The mirror on his side ripped off the panel and flew into the window, cracking it and grinding down the length of the car as it hovered in the scarce inches between the metal and solid rock. Light's heart was in his ears as his vehicle skidded to a stop a few yards away. They sat still for a brief second, blood icy their veins, before on an unspoken command, they were moving. Light threw the vehicle into park and ripped his seat belt off. L snatched the radio, and the last sound Light heard from the car was static and the order for immediate medical rescue. There was a team of police not fifteen minutes away, at the top of the hill, waiting at a crime-scene for the two investigators. Help promised to come quickly, but as Light dashed from car and left L to get it, his heart plummeted. The car, a shiny red vehicle, foreign in make and completely demolished on the passenger's side, hovered over the edge of the precipice. It appeared to have drug itself across the stone wall before veering across the road and into the railing. At an angle, the front right tire hung in mid-air, it's counterpart in the air.

He could see someone lying across the steering wheel and a shock of blond hair in the passenger seat. At the moment, the railing itself pinned the car in place, and Light's mind was running. There was a length of rope in the trunk of his car and he ran back to it, the keys already in hand. L rounded the vehicle eyes darting between the two. Light fumbled with the key until the lock finally turned and the trunk flew open.

"I'm going to attach this to the tire, and I want you to pull the car up with mine." He snatched the keys out and handed them off to L. "Go easy with it, I'm going be between the two of you, to make sure it stays steady."

L nodded, passing him as he began uncoiling the length of nylon from the police response kit. "I'll leave the door open…don't put yourself in a compromising position, I don't drive often."

"Just…don't gun it. Drive like Watari, not me." Light dropped to the ground, neglecting his suit in the interest of human life. He worked his way under the car and pulled the roped around his rear axel. Neither of the cars were built for towing anything, so he settled for the best support he had. The other car wasn't too far gone, but he wasn't willing to risk trying to pull the vehicle out of the cliff with his bare hands. If he could keep the back tire on the ground long enough, he was sure he could roll it backwards, but he wasn't sure of just how much the railing was supporting it. The last thing he wanted was to have two fistfuls of bumper when the railing gave and he found himself supporting two thousand pounds instead of the fraction that the support left him. He knotted it quickly, and slid back out.

L hovered in the door, and Light waved him in. He approached the car carefully, the rope dangling between his hands as he assessed the car. The back tire hovered a few inches off the ground, the metal railing rent, and impaling the front end to one side of the engine and tire well. He knelt and began wrapping the rope around the raised tire as tightly and yet gently as he could. He got down on his stomach to check its placement, and the sight of the ocean on the other side of the car drove a stake through his heart. There was defining line between the safety of solid ground, and the open air that was assuredly death.

A sudden ringing scream sounded above him, and he cut his cheek on the ragged metal when he snatched his head up.

"DON'T MOVE!" There was a whimpering cry of panic from the car, but it only rocked gently on the imposed axis running across the undercarriage. "Don't MOVE, we're going to pull you out."

"Light, hurry up!" The detective sounded worried, but the sound of sirens from above signaled the coming of backup. Light was suddenly torn between waiting and risking it all on this one attempt.

"Help…Oh, god…." The voice decided it. He lashed the tire a final time and backed up, a length in his hands to help the car behind him. Light wasn't expecting to do much good, but he felt better knowing that he was contributing somehow.

"L, ready?"

"Yes."

"Slowly…just barely any gas at all." The car jerked once as L put his foot down, and Light winced, but it evened out once the detective got used to the feel of the gas pedal under his foot. Slowly, inch by inch and with the grinding sound of metal on stone, the car began to move backwards, towards solid ground. Light wrapped the rope around his forearm and fist and began acting as a counter weight, trying to direct the force back and down so that the car was balanced. He raised his voice over the sound of the engine and approaching sirens. "Keep it slow, it's almost up!"

Another shriek of metal, and the railing began inching out of the car's chassis. It was slow going, and with an unexpected lurch, the car came clear of it. The wheel jerked back another few feet towards the edge, and the rope cut the circulation in Light's arm off. There was immediate compensation from Light's car, and they regained those few inches again. The weight evened out, and the car began moving towards the mountain. The sirens were just above them now, with only a few turns to go before they reached the curve. One car, another civilian cruiser, rounded the bend, and almost took L head on. It immediately pulled to the side, and Light didn't have to turn around to know who had come so quickly.

"Light-kun, what are you doing?!" Matsuda's voice and pounding footsteps almost made him grin…almost. "Your father's going to kill you when he hears about this, for Christ's sake it's a CAR!"

Then Matsuda's hands were tangling in the rope just before his, and his weight was being thrown just as heavily against the vehicle. "You can't lift a bloody CAR! You're insane! I'm insane!"

"Just shut up and pull you idiot!"

Matsuda bit his tongue, two bright spots of color in his cheeks, and L increased the gas slightly. Finally, finally, the other tire caught on the edge, bent outward slightly, and then the ground its way over the rim to the road. They pulled for another few feet, before Light waved for L stop. They dropped the rope, and L parked the other car as they headed around the front. Light peered inside, and was met with a pair of startling blue eyes. He pulled the door open, and the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life promptly latched herself to his shirt.

"Oh god oh god, thank you so much…I was going to die…."

Light tried to pull her back, but she buried her face into his chest and just held on. "Are you okay?"

"Light-kun, the driver's dead…" Matsuda reported from the other side of the car.

"Ma'am…let go. Are you hurt?"

"She's scared Light…just pull her out of the car…they'll take care of her when they get here." Light nodded and reached in to unbuckle the woman. She shook violently in his arms, but she was easy enough to lift out of the car. She weighed nothing.

"Guys, you'd better go…There's a news crew coming down too, they were at the crime scene. The vultures kept trying to get past the security tape."

L gave him a look, and Light nodded to himself. He set the woman down on the ground as gently as he could, and tried to pull away. She refused to let him, and he gripped her wrists as gently as he could, forcing her back. She was muttering to herself, obviously still in shock. "Next time he calls me baby. Mikatsu Hinata, I'll kill him…I wrote it. I wrote it down…"

"Help is coming, okay? This is Officer Matsuda Touta, he'll stay with you."

"You're quite beautiful…." She giggled, staring blankly at him. "You…you should join the industry!"

"Light, they're here, we should go." L called tensely. Matsuda, ever the gentleman, came to sit by the woman and took her hand with a kind smile. "Go ahead…no one minds keeping a model company."

A model…he wasn't surprised. She was absolutely gorgeous, and right now, she looked fragile…almost broken. He trusted Matsuda more than others on the team, however…the man had a heart of gold and nothing would happen to her while he was here. Light nodded to himself and stood. "Go ahead and take credit for this, we…He can't be involved."

"Light I can't do that…you two just saved-"

"Matsuda. It's L…he_can't be involved_."

The officer gave him a dirty look. "Just get out of here…take my car, it's got the camera anyway…you're still tied to the Porsche."

"Thanks." The ambulance rounded the bend, and paused there, successfully blocking the incoming traffic and restoring some semblance of order to the scene. The response team was out and running around the side of it to block the road and begin treatment if necessary. Light turned to find L staring at the red car, his back to the coming crowd. "We need to go. Now. We're taking Matsuda's car."

L nodded once, and ducked his head as he turned, the movement practiced and easy. The pair of them ducked the people rushing around the scene and made it to Matsuda's car without problem. It took them a minute to get it turned around, but once the news cameras were fully directed on Matsuda and the woman, L let out a sigh of relief. That had been a close call, Light knew…the man hated having his face known. Even now, as they headed up the mountain to a full-scale crime-scene, only fifteen men were allowed on the site while L was present. They were the fifteen top-ranking detectives the NPA had to offer, Light, his father, and the Chief included. There wasn't supposed to be media…there was never supposed to be media. However, with the model in town, they supposed they were lucky that they weren't the intended targets. Light knew that they'd been up there to catch her, and just got nosy at the sight of all the red tape posted around that one house.

They negotiated the crowd and pulled out onto the empty lane leading back up the mountain.

"Light, you're bleeding."

He ran his fist over his cheek and was surprised at the amount of blood that came away on his knuckles. Adrenaline still coursed his system, and his knuckles were starkly white on the steering wheel, garish under the crimson streak. He chuckled shakily. "That…that was not how I planned to start the morning."

"I doubt that was on her agenda either. She was quite attractive."

"Matsuda said she was a model."

"Yes… Amane Misa."

Light almost hit the brakes. "Amane Misa? …That was Amane _Misa_?"

"Yes." L nodded. "It's nice to know that she really is that beautiful…a lot of model's rely on technology to erase flaws and such. She seemed natural enough."

"Yeah…." Light chuckled suddenly, degrading into hysterical laughter quickly. L stared at him.

"What is funny?"

"Nothing…Nothing at all…my sister's just going to murder me when she hears about this…."

"I don't think it was an appropriate time to ask for an autograph."

"Agreed. However, Sayu is rather strange about her celebrities."

"Most teenagers are."

AN- NOT KIRA. Ahem...sorry. The Deathnotes existed before Kira, and Light was Kira. There will be no 'Kira' in this story. It'll make sense later I promise. No guessing!


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday was a day Light usually reserved for himself. All week, he worked with the department on cases, and took weekends off whenever possible. He'd spend Sunday with his family, and once a month, he'd have lunch with L. They still rarely saw each other unless L was working a case with the department. Light acted as his driver whenever possible, but lately L had decided that he'd been spending too much time in Japan. He'd taken to traveling, working cases around the world, and returning to the country for their concerts. He had yet to miss one.

Meanwhile, Light was steadily making his name in the department, stepping out of L's shadow. While his training was still a source of both respect and a healthy dose of resentment, it wasn't as awe inspiring as it had been when he'd first joined the academy. He was working his way into his detective's title and proving his worth without the world-renowned man to back him up and it was extremely gratifying.

He locked his door and slipped the card key into his back pocket. The wind was heavy with the scent of rain, warm against his bared arms. Today, despite…or perhaps because of the weather, Light was going to play solo tennis at the apartment's court. He loved the rain, especially summer storms, and with it being his day off, the temptation was too great. It wasn't a bad storm, and if it proved to have lightening, then he would wait until it passed…after all, he wasn't entirely insane. Still, part of the thrill was defying the weather, and he was guaranteed to have the entire three-court field to himself. Dark pants and a blue tank afforded decent protection from indecent exposure due to the rain…but he did intend to get wet. In fact, playing in the rain might have been his only reason for packing his racquets up and slipping into his sneakers. He paused to take his watch off as a low rumble of thunder rippled down from the mountain, bringing the scent of wood, grass, and sheer power through the small alcove of stairs. The wind whistled through the railings in the covered hallway, and made him smile. He jerked the zipper shut and snatched the bag up, taking the stairs two by two down to the ground floor. The zipper pull rag against the metal with his every step, and his hair blew into his eyes as he rounded the final rail. It hadn't started to rain yet, but there was no denying the tension in the sky.

He slung his racquet case over his shoulder and shoved his hair out of his eyes…and came face to face with L…who was supposed to be in France….

There was a strange moment of silence, broken by the thunder. Light felt a tight dread wind into his stomach, because if L asked him to work today…Light just might throw something at him. This was his Saturday, and he'd been looking forward to the rain all week. If L took this from him, Light might not forgive him for a long while. He needed to relax…and seeing L outside the concerts never meant relaxation…it usually entailed some kind of extremely detail-oriented type of work. It required him to think, and that was most certainly the _last_ thing Light was in the mood for.

The detective said nothing however, merely looked him over and slowly raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but paused, his eyes widening slightly as they fell on the racquet case slung over Light's shoulder. A smile eased onto his features, and Light waited for the hammer to drop, likely some snide remark about him wasting his time when they could be working….

"Light-kun plays?"

Not what he'd expected… at all, and it took him a minute wrap his brain around the fact that L was seriously inquiring as to his sporting habits.

"…Yes?" It was phrased as a question, which was rather ridiculous he knew, but he couldn't manage much more at the moment. There was another beat of silence, and then L's hands shifted to his pockets. There was challenging glint in his eye that Light was surprised to find directed at him, because it was usually reserved for a monitor displaying case files.

"But does he play_well_?"

Oh, now that was interesting. That implied that L knew what he was doing, and while Light knew him well enough to know that he was adept at hiding things, he couldn't see L being the sporting type. Light was instantly suspicious, because L never made an inquiry without some form of point to back it up. The idea of L playing tennis just would not compute, so he dodged it instead.

"Aren't you supposed to be in France?"

"I'm finished there, obviously. You are avoiding my question."

Light thought back to the three trophies stashed in his closet and couldn't help the smirk that held his lips hostage. Light was good…Light was _damn_ good, and he knew it. Tennis was as complicated as chess when he played; every movement fluid and planned five steps before. It was a dance, something that he couldn't predict in its entirety because of his opponent, but was all the more engaging for it. It fascinated him. "Yes…I play well."

"Would you like to wager on it?"

This was shaping up to be an interesting day indeed. Not only was L almost threatening to play him, he was willing to gamble on the match as well? Light chuckled and shifted the bag to his other side.

"What are you willing to bet?"

"Two of my cases and the next season pass." Light's eyes, and his smirk, widened at that. So L was willing to hand off two of his bigger files and let Light buy the next pass…something that was unheard of since they began going together. Perhaps L knew how to play him…Or maybe Light was just easy, he didn't know.

"And if I lose?"

L's eyes rolled to the ceiling for a moment before his smile grew wider. "If I win, I want to see your apartment."

Annoying, but harmless. Light considered it for a second, but it was just L…he was used to the detective prodding into his private life when he got bored. He chalked it up to L not having one himself. He nodded slowly and brushed past the detective, leading him out onto the sidewalk. The wind whipped through the parking lot like child throwing a tantrum, the first few raindrops leaving dark circles on the warm pavement. Light cast a sidelong glance at L, and his white shirt before remarking more to himself that to the detective, "You might as well take that off…the rain's going to make it pointless."

"I'm rather modest actually, so it stays." The detective smirked. "Nice try though."

"L…" Light paused, a dozen irritated (and defensive) remarks flying to his lips, but in the end he just shook his head and continued on. That wasn't even…God, this man was annoying.

The first sheets of rain started behind them, carried on the wind. Twenty yards away, there was a steady wall of water falling, moving across the ground a few feet at a time. Light opened the gate and waved the detective in, a childishly excited grin plastered over his usually composed expression. The rain was coming.

"Who shall serve?"

Light shrugged, tossing the ball over his shoulder and removing the racquets. Lightening, followed by long steady rumble shook the sky, and Light took a deep breath. He tucked the bag under a bench in the corner and handed a racquet off to the detective with a wink. "Don't worry… I'll go easy on you."

L raised an eyebrow again, nibbling on his thumb. "Light-kun's confidence amuses me."

"In fact, I'm feeling generous…you can serve, and I'll even…"

Light stopped as the tennis ball smacked him in the back of the dead with pinpoint accuracy.

"Shut up and Play."

The first showers of the coming storm hit the court, making the chain link fence ring. The green pavement slowly began to darken, and Light retrieved the ball. L looked bored, standing there with his thumb at his lips, racquet limp in his other hand, but Light knew better. It was in the way he tilted his head slightly to the side, a sign that he was thinking, preparing himself, and his grip on the handle was a little too secure to be rookie confidence. Light felt himself grin, because really…this was shaping up to be one hell of a day.

He served. The yellow ball went up, came down, and flew…a mere streak in the air, batting raindrops out of the way. L moved, quickly, his racquet snapping up, and then the ball came back. The wall of water rushed over the court then, and they were playing in the storm. A fine mist rose over the warm pavement as rain made its impact, and the wind whistled through the fence. Light's hair, darker now that it was wet, was slung out of his eyes as he spun and backhanded the ball across the net, one of his favorite strokes. The ball spun as it sailed across the court and, when it hit the ground, veered left because of the English the angle of impact had put on it. It was almost a professional technique, making the ball spin in the air, because it made judging its landing extremely difficult.

To his surprise, L caught it on the very tip of his racquet in a wild swing and still had enough power to send it back to him. It put him badly off balance however, and when Light struck again, the ball hit the fence. There was a moment of silence as L regarded the small yellow thing like it had bitten him. Light's blood was up, but he was hardly breathless, this early on. He waited.

"Well, then." L glanced at him, and Light paused. The challenge was still there, but now there was a sense of focus he hadn't picked up on before. It made him grin cockily…so he was getting L's attention. Fair enough…after all, this had been the detective's idea.

Light was not to be underestimated. Ever.

"Point. Your serve."

"Yes, I'm aware of this, Light-kun." The detective picked the ball up and rolled his shoulders. Water dripped from their racquets to the ground, and when L swung, rain exploded from the woven fiber and the ball itself. Light compensated for the added weight of the water, and swung hard, striking the service box of L's court. L caught it before it could hit twice, saving the point, and sent it back. It went high, and Light almost had to jump to catch it as it sailed over his head. His shot went low, almost grazing the net in passing, and L dove for it…

And tapped the damn thing, leaving Light hanging in deep court while the ball jumped the net with two inches to spare, and hit the ground, bouncing once…twice…

"Point." L shot back with a satisfied smirk.

Irritated, Light snatched the ball up, took stance, and waited until L moved to a starting point he was comfortable with. He nodded once, and Light tossed the ball. A fine mist of water fell on his face and shoulders as he put all of his weight into the overhand swing, the ball flying in a cloud of interrupted rain…

To strike the box and then fly under L's arm in a blur, striking the fence and soaking him with water again.

"Ace…Someone's not paying attention."

He saw L straighten at that, and a wolfish pride drugged him as the detective retrieved the ball, trying to maintain some scrap of his dignity…or so Light thought.

Then he turned around again, and Light almost swallowed his tongue.

"Very well. Light-kun has my full attention now…I hope he can handle it."

…Light wasn't sure he could.

L was the single greatest detective in the world, bar none. His mind was capable of running at least eight different lines of thought at once, with out dropping one or sacrificing his efficiency. That meant that, if needed, he could carry on roughly ten different conversations, with ten different people and keep them going indefinitely, or at least until a _companion_ ran out of things to say. L never focused on one thing, ever…his mind was always working; tucked away in the darker corners were cases files he hadn't even looked at in person yet. His faraway look was not the result of idle mindlessness, it was the result of intense concentration, and an internal need to work that was unrivalled on the whole of the planet. Light could count the number of times he'd seen the man focus on a single event on one hand, and he'd known him for close to six years now…

And the last time L had looked at him like this, it'd paralyzed him. Staring harshly, the detective effectively cut off Light's air supply, and then forced him to move as the ball left his hand. It was like walking against a river, trying to save that point. He dove for it as it hit the ground, but making contact with the ball was all he'd managed to order his body to do. It hit the net of racquet and fell, rolling away.

"Come now, who's not paying attention? Point."

Light pulled his eyes away and searched for the little yellow escapee. He thought, no, he_did_ feel L's eyes on him, as though Light hadn't looked away at all. The ball had run over to the corner, where it cowered in a puddle next to the bench. As he went to retrieve it, he made a decision. There would be no quarter now…it was just L. It wasn't as though he hadn't lived through this the first time.

It just didn't make_sense_.

In reality, he supposed, it didn't have to. He paused by the bench long enough to glance back at L, and then put his foot up and took off his shoe and sock. The other followed and he rolled the cuffs of his pant's legs once. As he returned to his box, he gripped the ball in his fist, wringing water from the felt to lighten it again.

L met his eyes and that same lazy smile greeted him…at the Mozart concert, it had been disturbing, but now that he better understood it…hell, who was he kidding? It was still hard to handle, but it could be done. Light was not about to lose this game. After all, he had an intensity of his own that L had yet to see…the beast that was his competitive streak.

So Light slung the excess water off of his racquet, took stance, and sent the ball back into play.

It was like playing in a swimming pool, with those eyes threatening to mow him down, hold him under until he drowned. Light found himself growling under his breath as the ball flew between them, both refusing to drop it. The thunder seemed to echo his tension, and as his breath eased from practiced to labored, he felt alive. Where his tennis shoes would have slipped on the wet pavement, his bare feet held firm, the warmth of the summer day still clinging to the stone. The rain still fell, and while his clothes clung to his frame, he didn't mind, because it kept them out of his way as he dodged, parried, and volleyed the little golden sphere across a white mesh border.

Light took the point as L's foot caught the edge of his jeans and slid to the side, lacking purchase on the smooth stone. The ball sailed over his racquet, and though there was no expression on his face, Light saw the slight narrowing of the eyes signaling his irritation. He didn't count it as a victory, because L was rolling his own cuffs now to ensure that it wouldn't happen again. His white shirt hung soaked and still loose from his shoulders, pulling tight when his frame did. Puddles of standing water began to fill over the court, making the footing dangerous, and adding a new level of challenge to the game.

Light jumped to save a shot, and landed in one, spraying water into his own face in favor of sending the ball into L's court near the net, making his opponent lunge forward to save it. This time he didn't pause upon landing, and was moving the second he touched ground again. L pulled his tap shot, but Light was ready now, and sent it crashing back over the net and L's head before the detective could reverse enough to save it. He didn't bother trying, and his eyes narrowed again as he watched its course.

He cut his eyes at Light once before going to get it, and Light realized that the tap hadn't been a lucky save at all…it had been a planned strategy to get him far enough away and make him strike close to home. Looking at L's position now that he was closer, he saw that L had been dead center of his court when Light drove ball over the net, not deep at the end…the dive was a hoax…elaborate, and effective.

Well, son of a bitch….

There wasn't time to rethink his strategy as L slammed the ball into play with out the courtesy nod signaling the start of the point. Light managed to get his racquet up in time to awkwardly knock it back to him, but it lacked the real power of his other blows. Still, he took his two steps back and watched as L set him up for his favorite swing.

The ball struck center court on L's side and the detective took it down the middle, bringing his racquet up for a smooth under-handed stroke that would take Light's court center as well. He watched the arm pull back and move forward before going into his turn, shifting his weight to his heel as he spun, his back to the detective for a quarter of a second…

And finished it out to realize that the ball was sailing past his _other_ shoulder.

He froze so suddenly that his muscles actually _ached_ to halt the momentum of the swing, but the fence was ringing, and the ball was rolling past his legs. He locked eyes with the man, furious at having his favorite move so easily interpreted, and when the crash of thunder and flash of lightening struck a second later, both of them jumped, startled out of each other and back into the game. The rain stopped for a brief second, a pause in the sky, and there was water _everywhere_, curling down the back of his neck, dripping from his elbow and his racquet, and god his body _hurt_ at this point. The delicious ache of used adrenaline lay like a fine silk over every muscle in his frame, because it was wet, and he had to use twice the power, twice the speed, twice the _awareness_….

L's voice broke the sudden silence, his breath controlled and his only the husky tone of his voice betraying any sign of exhaustion at all. "Set. My favor."

"Still two to go."

"I'm waiting."

It was eight more points. Best two of three and the first to take lead in the third set. Only eight points to fight for, eight small, unmarked points, scores kept only by their precision and their honor. There was no referee, no audience save the storm over their heads, and the tangible tension of the aroused minds of two geniuses. The focus and intensity of two men used to extending their power and watching others fall back, of standing straight that others may learn to kneel. It was heady, driven by pride and power, and as the rain picked up, Light bent to pick the ball up with a renewed fluidity. The wind whipped a final time, and as the rain returned, musical on the surface of its own puddles, he flexed his aching drive arm and served.

L was waiting, and the change was sudden, unmistakable. He swung, a cloud of water exploding from the laden felt ball, and Light rolled his shoulders and dove to meet it. Two inches of standing water covered the court, and his every step sent a spray of water flying. The ball hardly bounced when it hit the pavement, unless one of them drove it home, and that was dangerous, because it sacrificed balance and reflex for the sake of power. It was extremely gratifying to watch his opponent shift direction so violently that he could see the strain in the muscle, the narrowing of the eyes as he mentally cursed his overcompensation, however, and Light made a point of randomly skidding the ball across the pavement to watch him dive for it. His entire body sung to him as the rain struck the hot skin of his arms with a new ferocity.

It was L's turn to make him run, and he swung in a broad arc, connecting with the small yellow target with a solid _thock_. The wind and rain chose this moment to make a fool of him, changing directions without warning to catch Light in the face and blind him. A startled 'Shit' was all he could manage as the ball whistled past his ear and shook the fence. Flipping his hair out of his eyes, he growled as he stalked after it, the soles of his feet beginning to ache. Two-three, L's favor, and he was very much aware of it.

He watched L swipe a hand through his own hair and give new life to his spikes, the husky voice of his exertion almost lost under the soft roar of rainfall. "Care to…up the stakes a bit, Light-kun?"

"No." It was a savage growl, and then he too refused to give his opponent warning before his serve, and scored on it. "Ace."

L's eyes flashed obsidian under his matted hair, and finally, finally, he began to look a little winded as he turned to search for the ball. "Ah…yes…because that would come across as desperate…wouldn't it?"

"Fuck you. Serve."

L paused and turned back to him, and Light met his eyes and pegged him there, all of his drive, his passion, sent boring into the detective's skull by his sheer strength of will.

Light would not lose.

Would _not_.

This time, it was L that faltered under him, and that stabbing, harsh sense of pride laced his blood again, kicking his last reserves of adrenaline into gear. The detective held his eyes and reached blindly for the ball before breaking the contact long enough to grab the damn thing. Light was fully in his element, and took stance, his foot easing through the water as he spread his legs and tensed, ready to leap.

L palmed the ball for a moment to rid it of water, a useless gesture at this point, and somewhere behind Light, the thunder cracked sharply enough to rattle the ground beneath his feet. He never flinched, his knuckles white on the handle, and his heart in his ears. L raised his hand to toss, and in the split second before release, shifted his stance in a spray of water into something more substantial before swinging with all his might and _attacking_.

Light overcompensated. He released all that tension into a single, explosive bound, and misjudged the water, and the distance. When he put his foot down, it was too much, too fast, and it slid another few inches…when he swung, his racquet missed the ball entirely, allowing it crash into his wrist.

The pain was so sharp, so sudden, that his racquet clattered to the ground.

From the corner of his eye, he watched L take a step forward.

No…_no_.

"Don't move." He bit off, and L didn't. Light shook his hand out once, the pins and needles of struck nerves vibrating down through his fingertips. The racquet was off the ground in less than a second, and though it hurt to wrap his fingers around the handle, there was no way in hell he was going to drop this. This was suddenly about more than two cases and who bought the La Dee Fucking Da Season Pass…and Light wasn't sure when that had happened. He really didn't give a damn, in retrospect, because whatever this was…this was much better. This was worth it.

"We're counting that." He ground out between his teeth as he searched for the ball, looking anywhere but at the detective for a minute.

"…Then that was Set. My favor."

Fuck.

…_Fuck_.

The ball appeared in the corner, and when he turned around, he watched L shiver and shift his grip on the handle. Light decided to let him suffer a moment longer, returning to his serving point and lazily dragging his toes through the rainwater while he thumbed the ball, another pointless attempt to dry it. It was immensely satisfying to see L watching him from the corner of his eyes as he played with it, slowly tensing as Light had, his feet inching apart almost unconsciously as he _waited_.

Light never did take stance, he just tossed the ball and batted it lightly across the court to roll in the water. It never did bounce.

"Point."

L's eyes flashed. "That was cheap."

"L…" Light tilted his head slightly, shaking the water from his racquet slowly. "That sounded a little…_desperate_."

…And it wasn't the remark that set L off. It wasn't the fact that Light would dare imply that he was desperate, even though he was obviously winning. It was the look, the expression, the _tone_…and Light grinned his victory as L snatched the ball up and sent it viciously to his court. He would win this still…if not the game itself, then _this_…whatever the hell _this_ was. He caught it easily, because it was easier to catch it than to risk it not bouncing at all in the water and costing him an easy point. The return was gentle, just to further push the detective, and it almost worked. Almost.

L let it go. He didn't even lift his racquet as he stared at Light again, bringing the game to a halt for no apparent reason. The wind picked up slightly, and Light slung his hair out of his face again to better meet the dark stare he was receiving.

After all, this had been the detective's idea.

The ball rolled forgotten just before L's feet as he stopped and appeared to be thinking. For the briefest second, Light's own fire banked a bit and the cold sliver of that first tension wound its way into his stomach. He pondered it himself, really, turned it over in his head as he tried to bring it into perspective.

It _still_ didn't make sense.

Whatever L was, Light was his equal now, here, in this storm. He felt himself slipping again, down into that paralyzing tension. To know it, he first had to subject himself to it, had to let the detective _in_. It started at the back of his neck and wound its way down his spine, following the rain drops and making him shiver. It spread to his skin in the pins-and-needles of goosebumps against the cooling wind.

It made him fucking miss the serve.

He hadn't even seen L move, but when the ball grazed his hip he shook it off, reclaiming his fire. L's eyes lingered at his hips for a brief second until the ball hit the fence, before rising to meet his.

The bastard smirked.

Light watched the slow curl of his lips and felt something short of fury spread its addictive wings in his blood. He clamped down on it, because he may have been a sore loser, but damn it, he hadn't _lost_ yet. The ball, stalled by water, stopped about six feet behind him, hovering at the base of the chain link. With a curt nod, Light decided to fuck with him a little more, and turned lazily on his toes, retrieving the ball on his own time.

L's eyes could scorch water, his knuckles white on the handle, and Light gave him a roguish glance as he returned to his serving spot. His eyes narrowed when the younger detective crossed his arms defiantly.

"Light-kun is beginning to bother me."

Light said nothing, merely looked him over and tossed the ball into the air once.

"Light-kun."

Teasing, was the first word that came to mind when Light asked himself what he was doing, but it wasn't entirely apt. He slid his foot out and forward, kicking water into L's face.

There…now it was teasing.

"Damn it, Light-kun…_Serve_." L raked a sleeve over his cheek, though it did little in the way of removing water…in fact, it probably did more damage than the initial spray had in the first place. Light paused for a moment longer, defiant, and something dark crossed L's features, his first discernable expression since the game began. Victory.

He served.

L immediately shot it back, and it passed so closely to Light's head that it grazed his ear. Startled, he slipped, catching himself on a hand before he busted his ass on the concrete. The ball rolled past him, still moving with the force of the swing. He eased himself to the ground, sitting in the water and not caring, just taking a moment to relish the feel of the coolly damp black denim against the hot skin of his legs. "Game, Set, and Match."

L was staring at him. "One more Set."

"L, you won. Just drop it." Light snapped back, irritated.

"And you somehow managed to frustrate me even more by losing. _Get up_."

Light stared at him for a second, the confession of losing the second battle completely unexpected. The fact that L even acknowledged it stunned him…excited him…_vindicated_ him.

"No, L." He shot back, setting his racquet on the ground and lying down. He laced his hands behind his head and enjoyed the cool water under his back for a moment before glancing back at L.

The detective paled…something Light hadn't thought possible. He looked torn between words that he couldn't find and throwing his racquet at the younger detective. Light sighed, and sat up again, his moment of stillness just long enough that the muscles tried to set in stone and the ache was less than amusing at this point. L watched him with a hooded expression, and Light finally gave in and got up, tossing the ball to him. He left his racquet on the ground however, turning to walk away.

"Light-kun."

"L, I'm sorry. I don't want to play anymore."

"Then stand still and let me calm down." He turned to find the detective ducking under the net. "Do yourself a favor…and don't flinch."

To Light's credit, he didn't.

Without warning, L took stance and swung, and Light froze, watching the ball sail towards him…to graze the right side of his throat and rattle the fence behind him. The step back was involuntary, and he forgave himself for it, because there was already a bruise forming on his wrist as evidence of the sheer power the man possessed, despite his looks. The ball rolled past him, rolled through two fucking inches of water, there was so much momentum left in the damn thing. L picked it up. "I said don't move."

He served again, and it ducked between Light's arm and his side, grazing just above his hip. The sting was sharp, hardly there, and the tension he'd fought off since L looked at him and really _saw _him came back three fold. He couldn't move if he'd wanted to.

The next shot grazed the back of his knuckles.

The one after that nicked his ear.

The fifth grazed the other side of his throat.

The sixth brushed the inside of his thigh.

Whatever ground he'd won, he was losing it and quickly. Each shot, each step back, each tense and inhale when the ball left a streak of water upon his skin or pulled at his clothing, steadily gave L his dominance back. It was manipulation in pin point accuracy; it was stress relief in sheer talent. It was L re-establishing himself, for no one's benefit but his own, because Light knew that he could take it from him again if he really wanted to. Knowing that he'd pushed L into something as petty as self-assurance stroked something wicked within his chest, but it never had a chance to bloom as L's eyes roamed his body for his next target. Those eyes were harsh, at once hot and cold, and Light was loathe to be trapped under them as he was.

The seventh shot grazed his injured wrist, and he hissed in a breath. L met his eyes, but there was nothing in the way of an apology there.

The eight took the inside of his thigh again, and with it, Light ran out of court, his back pressing into the cold metal of the fence.

"L, that's enough."

"Is it, Light-kun?" L asked quietly, his voice almost indiscernible against the roar of Light's blood. "Because we wouldn't want to come across as_desperate_…now would we?"

L dropped his eyes as he bent to pick the ball up, and something akin to sheer panic roared to life in Light's ribcage. Whatever this was, he'd had_enough_…too much, no more, he was _done_.

He watched L wrap his thin fingers around the ball and crouch, looking up at him from the ground.

And Light just _lost_….

There was nothing to be said for the way L simply took from him whatever pathetic excuses he'd designed to bolster his pride after suffering defeat. He'd pushed to him a knife's edge with hair-splitting accuracy, and now he just shoved him over. It was in those eyes, in that small, sated smirk that just fucking drove him _insane_. Here now, just as in the theatre, Light had to _move_…just _move_, or face whatever it was that L was threatening him with…and Light simply could not handle that now. He was tired, he ached, he was irritated, he was making excuses, but no…just no. He had to go, he had to go_now_, and without another word, he half stumbled to the bench and grabbed his discarded shoes. They were soaked, but he stuffed them into the racquet case without a spare thought.

"Light-kun is a sore loser."

And just what was he losing?

His mind?

Yes…yes, he thought so.

There was a brief, terrifying moment when L approached him, just a spot of heat over Light's shoulder, and he turned, bag in hand, to accept the offered racquets and ball. He took a deep breath, glancing at the detective only once as he headed towards the gate. The rain eased to slow shower, but there was no relaxation to be there as L fell into step with him.

They walked in silence, up the sidewalk, to the building. Light slung the bag over his shoulder again, forcing himself not to tense so badly, his mind far away.

He found himself alone on the stairs, however.

He turned back to see L paused, a hand on the rail, the other in his pocket, and one foot on the first step. It made him frown in confusion.

"I thought you wanted to come up?"

"…I do. But…we're…doing well. For us." L removed his foot, staying on the ground. "Let's not push the issue."

"I at least have to get you some dry clothes." Light ventured, hope flaring in his chest that perhaps L was actually a human being after all, the invasive bastard. He could not fathom taking L up to his apartment right now.

"No…I think I'll just take a rain-check on that." L brought a finger to his lips, regarding the younger detective with a cocked head. "I had not expected our game to be quite that…volatile. It is not a good idea."

"What does that have to do with-"

"Watari is due to pick me up in ten minutes, regardless." L interrupted smoothly, turning away before Light had time to realize what he'd just been about to ask.

What did that have to do with him?

And for some reason, watching the detective disappear around the corner pissed him off to no end.

AN- Why? Why a 14 page tennis match? Because quite frankly, I got sick of watching L lose them all. (grin) And the tennis matches have **So Much Potential**. Soooo, very much. And then the rain idea hit me, and I had a fangirl moment, I'm sorry. I think this is the longest tennis match on FF right now...that I know of. O.o Should I pat myself on the back or get a life? Hell if I know.

Meh, it's two thirty in the morning. I'll deal with life and my lack of it when I drag myself out of bed tomorrow. Step Lightly, lest you wake me and I eat you. . No really.


	7. Chapter 7

_AN-_ In case you haven't noticed, I'm big on character interaction. There's a lot of important information in this chapter and I did my best to portray it in an interesting fashion. A cookie to those to guess correctly at the end, though it's kind of obvious. Thank you for staying with me...this is my most popular story by far, and I'm amazed by that. I really am. Thank you.

XXXX_  
_

_8:47 AM_

Light stared at his clock mid-roll, unable to believe that his cell was ringing so early on his day off. The transition from sleepy stupor to irritated logic was a smooth one however…either his father was up early and wanted to meet at their favorite bistro, or there was something going on at work that he was no _doubt_ the _only one_ capable of resolving. Those were his options…breakfast and coffee, or a savior role that would no doubt serve to ruin his Sunday.

He reached for the little buzzing devil machine and immediately groaned as his arm seized in the burning ache of spent muscles. His wrist was a mottled black color, and he took a minute to just stare at the mark, surprised. Glancing at his bicep, his eyes immediately flew to his stomach, where fine lines of bruising on each side marked the places L had grazed him with the ball the day before. His hand flew to his throat, and of course, there were fucking stripes of tender skin there too…that bastard. He looked like a fucking tabby cat. The phone fell quiet, and he fell back against the pillows again, determined to ignore the world and get his rest.

The damn thing went off a second time.

Work…of course, it was work, Takimura was the only person that ever called him in on a bloody Sunday, the incompetent bastard. He took a moment to curse his director vehemently under his breath before rolling over and snatching the Motorola from his nightstand. He made no attempt to sugarcoat his mood.

" 'The hell is this?"

"Light-kun is most disagreeable in the mornings…this suits my purpose for waking him."

A moment of shock, then his tongue began working again. "L?"

"No, it's Cleopatra." The wry tone told him that L was not happy about…whatever the hell was going on. "Are you awake?"

"I am now."

"Don't take that tone with me; your alarm would have gone off in roughly ten minutes anyway."

"I don't want to know how you knew that. What the hell do you need?"

"I _need_ you at the office as soon as you are dressed and physically capable of driving…possibly before that if you can handle drive-through coffee."

"What's happened?"

"Are you angry?"

"Obviously."

"Good…." Oh, hell, that was not what Light wanted to hear right now. "Because I've just infuriated Director Takimura, and you need to set him straight before I do something drastic."

Fuck. "Drastic as in?"

"Drastic as in getting him fired for irritating me."

"You spoiled bitch, you woke me up to run interference on one of your political schemes?!"

"No, I woke you because I knew you would handle the situation more diplomatically than I would after hanging up with him a moment ago."

"…That's saying something, L."

"My point entirely. Call me when the issue is resolved."

XXXX

Light laced his fingers and leaned forward on his knees, staring at the receding hairline of his boss with something just short of loathing. The tie around his throat hit the bruises perfectly, making it extremely uncomfortable to wear, but Light was not one to let his appearance slide. In fact, the daily ritual of getting up and getting dressed had somewhat calmed him by the time he picked up his keys and headed to the door. Upon arriving, the department on the seventeenth floor was riveted and tense; a sign that in the brief half hour it'd taken Light to arrive, the old man had done his own rampaging therapy. Eyes were glued to desks, keyboards rang, and while the coffee pot in the corner was empty, the break room was also bare. It'd taken him three minutes to cross the floor instead of fifteen, because whatever minimal issues his co-workers needed his help with today, they were obviously less important than the coming negotiation.

The Director's door had been open, waiting for him, because God knew, it was not the first time they'd danced this dance. A random waltz sounded in the back of his mind as he took his seat in front of the man's desk and waited for him to snap…he still didn't even know why he was here. As usual, the director settled for tapping his pen on his desk in nervous irritation instead of meeting Light's eyes, because it was a well known fact that an irritated Light was a dark Light, and the blade of charisma was a two-edged sword.

The old man broke first, starting the first turn…Light assigned it to the clarinet section in the back of his thoughts, a pointless ruse to keep his temper. L had already lost his apparently…no reason to make this harder on himself. "Damn it Yagami, what do you want?"

"What happened?"

"He's asking for half my department, that's what's happened! Arrogant prick wants me to designate eight officers…eight of my _best_, mind you, to act as his team in Japan."

"Explain it to me."

"He wants me to set these men aside so that whenever he gets the urge to work a Japanese case, he'll have local enforcement and a group of detectives at his disposal."

Light shrugged, keeping his tone neutral. "It's not anything new, he's done it in dozens of countries."

"We're hardly keeping up with our work-load as it is, Yagami. How can you expect me to collar my finest for his personal kennel? It's outrageous!"

"You say that as though he is in Japan every day." Light watched the old man's cheeks go even redder. "And you know better."

"Yes…I do, but it's not a matter of whether or not I can meet the requirements, it's a matter of principle." He rapped his fingers on the desk, trying to further his point. Clarinets became whining flutes. "How can I run a department efficiently if I let some…some foreign vigilante walk all over me? Hmm? How?"

"Let's not broach the topic of efficiency, Takimura."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Oh, and why not? You could do better, but not all of us are geniuses, Yagami. You do understand that?"

"Better than you do."

That earned him a look. "Yagami, don't start with me. I'm doing the best I can, and I will NOT let that man jerk me around by the leash. I am Director of the NPA…the National Police Agency of Japan! National!"

"I know what the acronym stands for."

"And I will not let it happen! I still sign your paychecks, and you will remember that…I don't care if he was your beloved mentor! No more!"

"Takimura, that has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, right, it doesn't. Then why the hell are you here?"

Light gritted his teeth at that. He took a deep breath and leaned back. "That's a nice chair."

"I know…it's a_ Director's_ chair."

Light let that hang in the air for a moment, until Takimura shifted in his plush office seat, eyeing him warily. His fingers still moved nervously, that damn pen keeping time for Light's private distraction. "What do you want, Yagami? My Job? Is that it?"

"Quite frankly, yes." He watched the man's eyes widen, and smirked behind his hand. "But let's be honest, I'm an ambitious man. What I don't think you get is that this goes beyond the department, Takimura. There's a lot more involved."

"Is that a threat?"

"No…that is simply me, leaving you an opening to hear your options. Only one of them involves you retiring with your pension."

The man blanched to a most satisfying shade of green. "What?"

"You have what…four years until you're done here?"

Takimura nodded, the light catching his bald spot.

"I'm more than willing to wait for you leave the department on your own time. However…this issue with L…that complicates things, you see." Light leaned forward again. "Do you know what happens when L doesn't have a team in whatever country he's working in? Do you have any idea which countries are willing to give him what he's asking for?"

"No."

"Russia…China…America…Germany, England, and France…."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that if you don't give him a team, he will _bring one_. You are dealing with the single most powerful one-man police force in the world, because he plays a good game, and it's much easier for the big names to play along when he'd funding his own programs."

Takimura's lips had a chalky tint to them. "He funds _himself_?"

"Yes." Light held his hands up. "Now, if you want to deny him what he wants, be my guest…because you're going to the be one explaining to the Prime Minister why there are foreign police contingents in the country, not me."

"Christ…."

"And furthermore, once that particular book has been opened, you'll also be trying to justify the thirteen grand from our department's budget that went towards those lovely _Director's_ chairs for the offices."

There was moment of silence and stony stares, but eventually, Takimura's black eyes fell away as he conceded the point. "I'll give him six."

"Why not the other two?"

"Because you practically work for him already." The old man snapped, and Light leaned back again, refusing to vindicate the bastard with a response. Just when he thought he'd worked his way out of L's shadow...

"Fine. The other?"

"Touta Matsuda is far too busy to be off gallivanting on L's whims. He's hardly capable of his normal workload…and the last thing we need in this department is another lap-dog for that spoiled bastard."

"Perhaps if you did your job _properly_," Light remarked lowly, fire in his eyes. "He wouldn't be carrying half again the number of cases that his co-workers do. I'm the only in the department capable of doing that efficiently, and you should know better than to let him try. He's a good officer, and you're going to burn him out."

"Perhaps he shouldn't_ ask_ for the work."

"Perhaps you should get off your _ass_ and do some yourself."

"Yagami, you are stepping into dangerous waters."

"And you're drowning, Takimura. Is it really worth your retirement this late in the game? It would only take an email to have you out of here…and then I'd get that nice chair with no work at all."

"You wouldn't write it."

"No…that'd automatically put me out of the title for breeding contempt in the department…but _L_ would."

The man sneered at him, "What are you? Some kind of plant put here to get me to cooperate with him? Who do you really work for?"

Light stood and headed for the door, adjusting his damn tie to loosen it a bit. The pain was irritating. He paused with a hand on the doorknob, and regarded the Director for a moment, letting the insult hang between them. His voice remained deceptively calm.

"Let me put it to you this way. Yes…you do sign my paychecks. However…When L tells me to jump, I ask how high. When L tells you to jump…you _jump_ and pray to God that it's high enough. Touta Matsuda is on L's team, and I will have a copy of the list on my desk by this afternoon to ensure that it meets his specifications. Think about your pension, Takimura. Retire to some place warm."

He opened the door to find himself eye to eye with a very angry Matsuda. It caught him off guard, but he stepped out into the hall way and shut the door behind himself before he allowed concern into his features. Matsuda was one of the few men that Light genuinely respected, and he could count them all on one hand. The man stared at him hard for a minute, silent, before glancing pointedly past him at the door. Light noticed the files in his hand and stepped to the side.

The door shut with a click, leaving Light to wonder what the hell just happened. He was sick of surprises for the day and headed down the hall to the floor. People glanced at him nervously, but he didn't return any of their looks, letting them know that while the storm had passed, it had done its damage. It was an unspoken agreement that they leave him alone while he was in on his off days, because they all understood what it meant to have a free day snatched from them due to some idiocy or other. He paused by his desk and stared. A bouquet of roses greeted him, garishly red in comparison to the rest of his station. A matching set sat atop Matsuda's desk, just behind his. Underneath the vase lay an entire stack of brightly colored papers and two scrolled posters. He checked the note on the flowers, bemused.

_I hope you don't find it arrogant of me to send my own merchandise as a Thank You gift, but I am a model after all. I don't have much to offer, and you can sell it if you want. Regardless, I remember you and what you did, and I've made dinner reservations at Sekisui, the steak house downtown. Don't be late! _

_Thank you Again! _

_Misa Misa_

He set the flowers on the floor next to his desk and glanced at Matsuda's note…same message, different dates and times. At least she was taking the time to see them both instead of trying to cram them into one evening, or worse, one dinner. He tucked the posters and other paraphernalia onto Matsuda's desk as well, seeing it pointless and knowing that the other man would lose his mind. Once that was done, he checked his email, refusing to sit down and actually admit that he was working today. If he was lucky, he could get out of the building within the hour and still have the afternoon to relax.

He and his father shared a double desk, mirroring each other in the last row of workstations…the row reserved for the seasoned and the prodigies. Matsuda sat at Light's back, working with Mogi and Aizawa when he was doing field jobs. His father's desk was neat, while Light's was impeccable, and it made him smile. The difference was small, a few stacks of papers that weren't quite straight, and paperclips in different positions on the files…the angle of staples and the number of pens. His father had an entire cup of pens on his desk because he was constantly misplacing them…Light had exactly one pen, and one mechanical pencil.

Besides, if he lost either of them, he could always steal one from his father.

He flipped his phone open while he scanned an autopsy report, keying in Watari's number. It only rang for a moment before the line picked up…there was no greeting, just expectant silence.

"Watari, it's me…I need to talk to L."

There was quiet for another moment before the familiar chuckle sounded at the other end. "You know…you are one of five people that can pull that line off. Hold on, I'll forward the call."

Again, no greeting, though L did sound calmer. "How did it go?"

"Oh, he came around."

"Did you threaten his pension?"

"I always fight dirty."

"He deserved it this time. Take the rest of the day off now…that should further incense him."

"I'll consider it." The line went dead, and Light rolled his eyes, tucking the devil machine into his pocket. L seriously needed to work on his phone skills.

He was just closing everything down when Matsuda stepped out of the office and nearly slammed the door. Light watched him walk down the hall, and very suddenly realized that not only was the man angry…he was angry with Light.

Well, la dee fucking da…this day was just getting better and better.

Matsuda walked up to him, crossed his arms, and rubbed his eyes. Light just watched, waiting for an explanation, because one of the many things he could credit Matsuda with was the fact that he told someone when he was upset with them. He didn't feel it fruitful or satisfying to carry a grudge, and he'd rather bury his hatchets and plant trees on them. He could never stay angry for long, and that really eased the tension between them when Light's genius rubbed him raw, as it was wont to do anyone who worked with him for an extended period of time. Matsuda tried anyway, and that dogged determination to make a friend out of someone he couldn't understand was what penned him into Light's good book. With large, scrawling letters, because Light himself wasn't well versed in the patience department and this one officer had enough for them both.

So, out of his uncharacteristic respect for Touta Matsuda, Light pushed his previous annoyances to the background and calmly waited to hear whatever the man had to say.

Matsuda looked at the ceiling once, a gesture associated with L that made Light blink in surprise, before meeting the younger detective's eyes and holding them. "Let me fight my own battles. I know when to back off when I'm overworking myself…I don't need you to double-check me, and I damn sure don't need you going over my head to do it."

Ah, so that was it. He must have heard the last little exchange from outside the door. Light regarded him for a moment, trying to phrase his response carefully so that the situation would be over with as easily and quickly as possible. "…That…wasn't your fight, Matsuda."

The man opened his mouth, but Light held up a hand and silenced him, continuing his perfectly scripted reply. "Your battle will come when he tries to take those extra cases away from you, and you won't let him. We all know that, and no one will ever doubt that you're going to win it each and every time. You're the greatest credit this department has to its name…"

Matsuda eyed him, some what mollified.

"…Except for me, of course." Light finished out, grinning. Matsuda looked away, but chuckled despite himself, punching Light in his sore drive arm.

"Yeah, okay, Yagami." Light winced, flexing his arm a bit. His entire body ached, and it was wonderful. Matsuda frowned. "You okay?"

"Yes…played tennis yesterday. I wore myself out." _L_ wore him out, and he guessed he could have his cake and eat it too. He hadn't enjoyed the game that much in…well, never, really. He made a mental note to play him again someday…just not anytime soon.

Matsuda glanced over his shoulder at his desk, and his mood continued to lighten. "You don't want your posters?"

"You'll enjoy them more than I will."

"You need to get laid, Light-kun…and it's sad that I'm the one telling you that." Matsuda chuckled again and brushed past him. "So, are you going to meet her, or can I have your date?"

"I haven't decided yet…you're scheduled before me, so why don't you tell me what she's like in person?"

"Fair enough. You headed home for the day?"

"Yes I think so…."

"…I think I will too, actually. I don't know what else you told him, but I'm sure as hell not sticking around for the aftermath."

XXXX

Some days, Light wanted to snap his phone in half and leave it in the gutter, the damn thing annoyed him so. It seemed to be the bearer of all bad news, because he knew that, perhaps, if he turned it off, he wouldn't necessarily receive the damning calls that ruined his plans. However, being the practical man that he was, he found that not having it on only served to make him tense and paranoid because, of course, something could happen while he was out of touch. With his Father's slow but steady decline in health, he deemed it wiser to keep it on him at all times…and suffer through the atrocities the devil machine demanded of him.

Like the call from L that stopped him two feet outside the office doors.

"What is it this time?"

"You're meeting me for lunch, right?"

"L, where the hell did that come from? I was going home!"

"So Light-kun does not wish to have lunch with me?"

"…You're so goddamned annoying, it hurts sometimes."

"If you do not wish to come, then you do not have to." The almost wounded tone said that the detective had taken him seriously, which only further shoved Light's mood into the ground. "There is no need to be insulting about it."

"…It's just…early. Where do you want to eat?" That was the closest thing to an apology Light would offer, and L likely knew it. Any form of sorry would only be rebuffed because Light was aware that he was an ass sometimes, and he _had_ meant it.

"There is a small café outside the square about two blocks exactly from your current location, on the North corner. Will you meet me there?"

"How do you know that it is two blocks _exactly_?"

"…Because I just drove past you."

Light rolled his eyes and turned, heading down the sidewalk while his eyes spotted Watari's Bentley leaving the light at the corner. "I suppose it never occurred to you to give me a ride?"

"No…not really."

"How gracious of you…dragging me out of bed early and then making me walk for my food."

"Light-kun has won the argument with Takimura. He should stop whining now."

"I'm not whining."

"I'm not going to justify that with a response. Now hurry up, we've already parked."

The click and 'Call ended' message on his phone was almost enough to inspire its destruction. The little machine beeped at him feebly as he closed it, as though muttering its own apology as he set off down the sidewalk.

At least it wasn't raining.

By the time he stepped into the café, he and gone beyond irritation and settled into an accepting soberness…he didn't have the energy to stay angry today. Count on L to give him the best game of tennis he'd ever played and then make him walk to loosen up solid aches. He spotted L immediately, and the stacks of papers that were already covering the table made him stop just inside the door. The idea of work was practically offensive at this point. L thumbed through his files, making sure that everything was in order, and then turned to the side…a thin strip of something like a laptop monitor appeared over the table's edge.

Oh yes, work indeed.

Light stood in the door, but L never glanced up. He continued leafing through his things for a minute, and adjusting things as he saw fit.

Then, to Light's utter fury, he whistled to get the younger detective's attention, obviously unaware that Light had spotted him already. It was quiet and low, hardly audible, but he was _whistling_ or Light like he would a _dog_. Light merely raised an eyebrow as the detective met his eyes. L just smirked distantly as he returned to his papers, gesturing at the empty seat across from him.

Bastard.

"Where's Watari?" He asked as he slid into the booth, tucking his stomach to avoid brushing L's haphazard files.

"He's here, in an acceptably out of sight position." L batted the menu out of his hands without glancing up. "I've already ordered for you."

"Oh, you have?'

"Yes…" L frowned and combined two stacks, snatching paperclips from a small pile next to salt. "It will be acceptable."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm paying." L's smirk faded as he shoved the papers across the table. "Now, I need information on the team that I'm building…did Takimura give you the list?"

Light shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the papers. "No, he didn't."

"Well, they're all seasoned officers that you have worked with personally in the past and Light-kun…the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can get home. Look at the papers."

Fuck. He glanced at them and then stared. The profiles, complete with bureau pictures, were at least fifty sheets long, each. The one on top was his father's. "You have one on me?"

"No…that'd take all the fun out the game, don't you think?" Game? What game? The detective glanced at his expression, and bit his tongue, mockingly refusing to elaborate. He continued talking while Light picked the first one up and thumbed through it himself.

"Now, I need to talk to you about these men, and their personal habits…namely their home lives, and projected availability for future projects."

"What do you need to know?"

"Let's start with Touta Matsuda…I suppose he was hard to win?"

"Yes, Takimura hated that…."

"Takimura is an idiot. Does Touta Matsuda have a family?"

Light shook his head. "No, not really. He dates on and off, but his parents live on the southern isle, and he doesn't go to see them very often. Maybe once every two weeks."

"His weekly schedule…what's that like?" L asked as he typed something into the computer at his side.

"He spends most of his time at the office, even weekends. When he does take a day off, it's usually a Sunday, for a baseball game. He was working today, but he's headed off to the park next week, I know."

"Baseball is a waste of time. Are you sure?"

"I know he's going, because I'm going with him."

There was moment of silence, as L regarded him with open surprise. "Light-kun likes baseball as well?"

"'Light-kun' played on a little league team when he was eight." It was Light's turn to smirk as L continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "However, you're right. It's not for everyone. Moving on, I can't tell you much about Mogi's personal life…except maybe that he doesn't have one. He's ex-military and very quiet by nature. He's one of the best profilers on the team, however, and he's tenacious. Mogi won't let anything go once he's started it."

L nodded approvingly. "Aizawa?"

"Married with two girls, and he's expecting another before the year's out. He works mainly in forensics, one of the best chemical analysts you'll find in the Bureau. He's not afraid of red tape, and he's more than willing to step out of the lab and tag along to a scene to get his information. He has his full detective's honors, and carries both his badges on him in case he gets called away from either department."

"Ide."

"Mogi, minus the military background…he's amazing with computers and cross-reference research."

"Your father."

"You've worked with him before…all I can really say is that when he gets involved in a case, it'll eat him alive. He's very much the father figure in the department, making sure that the others don't burn themselves out. If not for him, I think Matsuda would have killed himself two years ago."

The food arrived and L gritted his teeth as he moved plates and papers out of each other's way. Light stared at his noodles in vague surprise…it was something that he hadn't tried, but had been considering his last few visits. A ginger salad, something he always ordered, appeared next to it, and damn him, but Light was genuinely impressed.

Then the waitress slapped a glass of orange soda on the table, and Light bit his tongue.

L said nothing, merely slid a blank tablet notebook over to him. "Eat quickly, we haven't got much time. I need their numbers."

"And why, pray tell, do we not have much time?"

"I have just decided to organize a meeting with these gentlemen. Numbers, Light-kun." L tapped the notebook impatiently.

"What happened to me going home after this?"

"I believe I just told you that I changed my mind."

"L…I don't work for you."

"…True. However, if you refuse me this, I'll call in my rain-check and accompany you back to your apartment, and we can work from there. It's up to you."

"That's not fair."

"Don't whine…it's unbecoming."

"I'm not going to take you to my apartment so that you can _work_."

"And what, pray tell, would have me do otherwise?" L cocked his head, vaguely amused. "Light-kun doesn't strike me as the type to lounge about watching television."

"We could-"

L interrupted him, resting his chin on his knees. "We could _not_ play tennis again…judging from how you stumbled over here, I believe you're doing well to be walking."

Light braced his elbows on the table and stared across the table at the most infuriating man in his entire life. "Sometimes, I can't stand you."

"Patience is a virtue, Light-kun."

"I never claimed to be virtuous."

L regarded him quietly for a minute; then began to pick up his papers. "I ask too much of you on your day off. Go home and get some rest…you'll still be sore in the morning."

"Do you ever take a day off?" Light asked, honestly curious. He picked at his salad, suddenly self-conscious to be eating in front of the detective.

"Yes…yesterday, when we played. I don't get days like that very often." L began tucking his files into a briefcase he'd tucked under the table. His mood had taken on a rather sullen edge to it, and Light watched him pack as he tried to figure out what it was.

"L, don't pout."

The detective drew himself up, meeting Light eyes with a frown. He looked up briefly before shaking his head. "No…not pouting exactly, just surprised. Watari would have stopped me too…I am known to be rash when I am excited about something. I will remind Light-kun that he has called me spoiled in the past."

"That doesn't mean-"

A sudden, insistent beeping cut him off. He glanced at his own phone, but to his surprise, L extracted a similar device from his pocket and stared at it. It was obvious that he was unused to getting direct calls. He hesitated for a moment, casting a worried glance over Light's shoulder…at Watari, Light guessed. The beeping continued, quiet but demanding, and Light waved at him to answer it. Whoever it was that had L's direct line was obviously someone important…even Light himself only had Watari's number.

The detective flipped it open. "What is it?"

The words were fuzzy, wrong somehow, and it dawned on Light that he was hearing English. While it was highly likely that the person was western, there was also a chance that L hadn't wanted Light to overhear the conversation. He glanced across the restaurant, looking for Watari, suddenly eager to be away from the phone call. Luckily for him, L seemed to be doing more listening than talking.

"…And he's gone missing?"

It wasn't the sentence…that sentence could be applied to literally anyone in the world, in any language. Criminals escaped from jail, public officials were kidnapped…it was the tone. It was the quiet, strained tone underlying the words that stopped Light in his tracks. The pain in the detective's voice left Light stunned, because no…this wasn't about a case…this was something else. This was something personal, and while Light wanted nothing more than to leave the detective here to deal with the problem as he needed to, a short wave from L locked him place.

Don't leave, that wave said…and Light didn't. He eased back into his seat, idly stirring the melting ice in his glass, his food forgotten. L didn't look at him, staring at the table as he listened quietly, his finger rifling the corner of the last file left. The short rattle was grating in the silence, but L was likely only doing it to ease his tension, so Light said nothing on the matter.

A few minutes later, L gave a gentle sigh. "Thank you Roger. Keep me informed."

The phone clicked shut, and was set on the table between them as L eased the last of the papers into the briefcase and zipped it closed. Light watched him, unsure of whether to ask or not…but the detective had told him to stay, hadn't he? That meant that it was acceptable for Light to know there was a problem…was it really much of a stretch to wonder what the problem actually was?

"L?"

"I have to leave again. England."

Light nodded, searching his pockets for a pen. "What's happened?"

"One of my boys has gone missing."

"Your boys?" Light stared openly. L…had _children_? The thought did not compute…would not, absolutely refused, no. Just no.

"More or less…Watari founded an orphanage when he was younger, it's run by a friend now. It's a…safe house for me. I've grown rather attached to three of the children there, and one of them has run away."

"You're going to look for him?"

"Oh, there's not much point in that." L chuckled wryly. "He's…gifted. They all are. This boy could kidnap the president of the United States, and hide him for years, if he wanted…he's very good."

Light was still stuck on the orphanage/Safe House/ home of L's 'almost' children. The detective glanced up, and shook his head, smiling a bit. "Don't try to make sense of it…I'll explain in detail someday."

"If there's no point in looking then…" A thought struck him, and he frowned. "Christ, how old is he? Is it safe for-"

"Oh, he's of age, and has access to money if he needs it. I'm not concerned about his ability to take care of himself. I'm going because I want to find out why he left…that's more likely to yield clues than tracking him down would." L shut his laptop down and added that to bag, quiet for a few minutes. "I'll be back in few weeks. I may miss this concert."

"It's understandable. Don't worry about it." Light remembered the pen in his hands and scribbled down a date and time, roughly a week from the current day. "Here…I'll set up a meeting with the team while you're gone, and email you the specifics once it's done. You can use your laptop to sit in on it, if you have time."

L stared at the notebook being slid across the table to him blankly for a minute, before placing his feet on the floor and taking it up with his phone. He met Light's eyes as they were tucked into his back pocket. "Thank you."

"Peace of mind here…go do what you need to in England."

L stood up, and hissed briefly as his legs straightened, obviously sore. Light smirked to himself, because for some reason, that made his day. "We'll play again when you get back…if you're up to it by then."

It wasn't until after he left that Light realize he'd left the check. Damn it.

XXXX

2nd AN- If you only knew how many plotbunnies went into the making of this chapter. This is one of those where I was attacked in the middle of a restaurant and had to scribble on the nearest napkin. No lie. It'll all make sense soon, however. 'Bwahaha, for mine is an evil laugh.' (cookies if you get that quote, too)

Step Lightly, Kani


	8. Chapter 8

AN- To answer ye questions...that was a Firefly quote, and Yay for Underwater Owl. Also, there is most definitely a larger plot beyond what I've shown here, and I'm leading into it as slowly and surely as I can. 

Now, let's all keep in mind that Light and Misa are not eighteen anymore. She does make an appearance in this chapter, but as a more refined, older, and experienced woman, just like (I hope) Light himself is. So no Misa bashing. She's a peripheral character, I promise. 

And you all knew it was coming. It may not be what you were expecting, but these two can't do anything quietly.

XXXX 

Light stood at the head of the conference table, almost idly setting the laptop and speakers up as his teammates drifted in after their lunch break. There was nothing but the quiet sound of his mouse and soft footsteps in the conference room, the air filled with the lethargic aftershocks of a decent meal and hard work. Light himself had yet to eat, and the fact that everyone smelled like food didn't do much to ease his hunger pains. Still, he had to sit through this phone conference with L before he could even consider taking a break. He'd also be staying late tonight to finish filing the paperwork on a case he'd just closed the day before. 

His father walked in and caught his eye, lifting a small brown bag up for him to see. Light found a grin upon his face, at once grateful and disappointed. His father knew his favorite foods, and no doubt the meal would be satisfying, but he'd been looking forward to leaving the office for an hour or so. He found that sunshine helped him think almost as much as the rain allowed him to relax. However, now that food was easily accessible, he'd likely talk himself into eating at his desk while he worked. It was a fate he suffered more often than not, despite his self-sworn promises to get away from his files for an hour at least every morning. 

Aizawa claimed a seat at the head of the table, leaning back to avoid Light's scattered cords and half-drowsing. His eyes were mere slits, his hands folded over his stomach, the picture of a man used to napping after a meal. Mogi, however, remained as alert as ever with his military posture, despite the spot of soy sauce on his tie. Light spared him the frustration of pointing it out, opting instead to brace himself for the much more energetic steps coming down the hall.

"Wow, is that an 'L' laptop? Really?" Matsuda was already dropping his coat into a chair and rolling his sleeves up as he crossed the floor to stand next to Light. Aizawa merely blinked at him, and returned to his lulled state, content to snatch every second of peace he found outside the lab. Matsuda stared at the screen over Light's shoulder and nearly twitched when the emblem appeared, leaving one sleeve shorter than the other. Light was reminded of a child at Disneyland when they first meet their favorite character. "Gah, that's so _cool_!"

"Matsuda, he's not online, but I suggest you sit down before you embarrass yourself further." Light chuckled, tugging at his own sleeve cuffs in a self conscious gesture so ingrained into his psych that he no longer caught himself doing it. The others grinned too as Matsuda flushed to his roots, throwing himself into a nearby chair. 

"I was just saying, you know…Watari is the only other person in the world that can do this, and now Light-kun's got access to him too! I mean come on! Score for _Japan_!"

Soichiro claimed the seat next to the younger officer and clapped him on the back, not saying a word. Matsuda took this as a signal that yes; he'd just overdone it, and retreated into wounded silence. The tips of his ears remained red with embarrassment. Finally the laptop beeped at him, and Light entered the code Watari had left for the meeting. There was a moment of silence as the key was verified. The line then opened up, and the camera's light came on, the sound of nothing filtering strangely through the speakers. Without a word, Light turned the laptop around to face the table, making small adjustments to the webcam's angles. He didn't have to double check the screen, confident he was capturing everyone at the table in the frame. 

"…It took Watari years to perfect that, Light-kun."

"Watari is near-sighted, L."

"True. Good evening everyone…Or rather, good afternoon, unless I'm mistaken. It should be a bit after one in the afternoon your time, and roughly four thirty in the evening mine. I believe you all know why you're here…"

And so began the most boring, monotonous speech Light had ever heard. Of course, L was perfectly entertaining; managing to rouse even Aizawa with well placed remarks and compliments, but to Light…there was something missing. Perhaps he just preferred dealing with the man in person, because the computerized version of L seemed extremely hollow to him. Still, he tried to pay attention. 

"Now, I must say that some of you will not be able to work with me in some circumstances, and this is not a matter of your ability. To be frank, you're simply married. I am more inclined to work with talented bachelors because they have a tendency to be single-minded and driven enough to keep up with me to a degree. Furthermore, the two gentlemen on this team are not only married, but one of you has children, and the other is due to retire in two years, yes?"

"That is correct." Aizawa piped up, tapping his fingers.

"I assure you gentleman, you will not be missing much more than a few all night sessions at crime scenes and the like. I would not deny you work, and especially not if I am in absolute need of your skills. That being said however, I would like to inform you that I will need you to be available to me on a constant basis. If I call, I expect you to answer, and I will do my best to be mindful of your schedules and personal affairs that I may not interfere beyond what is necessary. However, by joining this team, you will be accepting a crucial amount of responsibility, and I expect you to stay intimately up to date on the goings on of your country, because I will not have the time. When I am needed, I will expect you to be able to brief me comprehensibly on the situation and be ready to act when I am. Is that agreeable?"

There was a general consensus, nodding, muttered affirmatives…all except for Matsuda and Light, who remained quiet. Light rested his chin in his hand, undeniably bored because whether he liked it or not, he was practically living by those standards already. L redefined the word spoiled in Light's opinion, stating his expectations as though they were already law. It was highly amusing, and the younger detective wondered to himself if it inspired the same urge to disobey in the others as it did in him. Matsuda also remained silent, frowning at the wooden table top.

It did not go unnoticed. 

"Is there a problem Matsuda-san?"

Matsuda licked his lips and looked at the ceiling, and Light wondered if L caught the familiar gesture. He made a note to ask him about it later. Matsuda's eyes came down and he glanced at the computer again, obviously trying to phrase his question. 

"Will…you need us soon?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I am currently attending other cases, and there seems to be nothing in Japan that your department is incapable of handling. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that…there's something I want to look into, and I have to do it on my own time."

"A private investigation?"

"Yes, I suppose."

There was a moment of silence and a few curious glances. Matsuda merely traced circles on the table with his fingers, refusing to meet anyone's looks. Finally, L broke the tension, just as Light opened his mouth to do the same. "Might I ask what it is? For the sake of mere curiosity…."

"Well, it's…ah, something that's…been bothering me I suppose." Matsuda loosened his tie and glanced between Light and the computer screen nervously. "You remember the…incident with Amane?"

"Yes, of course." L remarked, and Light nodded.

"Well, her driver was younger than I am, and he died of a heart attack."

Aizawa leaned forward now, narrowing his eyes. "That toxicology report you had me run on a favor…that was his wasn't it?"

Matsuda nodded before continuing hesitantly. "At the risk of sounding like a complete fool in front of L, I want to look into it. He came back completely clean, and was as healthy as Light-kun. I just can't…come to terms with a heart attack for no apparent reason, you know? It's not natural. At least, it _shouldn't_ be. So, I'll be…you know, kinda tied up…for a while."

"…A man after my own heart.", came the almost fond reply, and then heads swung in the other direction as the men stared at the camera. All except Light, who for some reason, found himself to be smiling again. Matsuda looked somewhat heartened. 

"Do let me know how that turns out, Matsuda-san…Moving on, however, I would like to discuss the problem of contact between the seven us." 

XXXX

Light tried not to snarl. "Listen, I am _telling_ you that I'm…"

"Yagami Light?" The model swept from the back of the restaurant to escort him just as he was pulling his badge to gain entrance to the damn place. The man at the register glanced between them only once before the indifferent air disappeared entirely, replaced by a completely genial, almost butler-like personality…which in truth only further infuriated the young detective. Had he not spent the last fifteen minutes standing here, explaining that he was indeed the Yagami listed to dine with Amane? 

Now the blond latched herself to his arm, smiling prettily up at the host. Light almost pulled away, but noticed that the touch itself was rather impersonal. Aside from her slender arm draped through his, there was hardly any contact at all. It was a practiced motion of false camaraderie, a technique used for picture-taking with old men and young perverts, and in reality, he supposed it was quite clever. In favor of good taste, he decided to leave her at his side…at least until this bastard was _somewhere else_, or he might never see a table. 

"He's with me, Gojima! I'll take him back, don't worry." She somehow managed to giggle and talk at the same time, which made Light grit his teeth. Without another word, she was leading him through the second set of glass doors and into the restaurant proper. 

The young woman must have been born in heels, because she kept up with him as though she wore no shoes at all. That was refreshing in and of itself, because his few times escorting his younger sister through formal occasions had left him practically carrying the girl. She was a rather charming height, coming just to his shoulder, and the train of her long formal dress swept behind her like it had been tailored…and there was little doubt that it had. It was elegantly revealing, timid enough to be chaste, yet…meant to be worn by someone with confidence. 

He supposed that for a model who favored gothic Lolita in her street clothing, she cleaned up rather nicely.

That musing was wisely kept to himself, lest he lose this dinner. Sekisui was the type of restaurant that booked three months in advance unless one knew someone, with tiny plates and big prices. He was sure they made a perfect pair as they swept past tables filled with celebrities and city officials…they both looked as though they'd just come from A-Streets most glamorous funeral. Both in black, they turned heads as they crossed the broad floor, serving staff bowing out of their way. Without a word, she made a smooth transition to his other side mid-step, and he could tell that there were dance lessons in her past. Her voice was bright, even in a whisper. "Shh, don't worry. We're passing the paparazzi now."

"Never thought a model would dodge a camera." 

Her laughter was…cute. Annoyingly, cloyingly, infuriatingly cute. This would be a long night. "Oh, darling, that was snide. I think I'm going to like you, Yagami-san."

He sincerely hoped not. They reached their table and she slid into her side of the round, private booth with a practiced ease. He followed suit, adjusting the obsidian silk tie around his throat as he found himself presented to the entire restaurant. Across the floor, a graying old man with large framed glasses was frowning in his direction.

"He's staring at you now, isn't he?"

"Who is it?"

"The owner of the restaurant…or his son, rather. He's sold his soul to the camera business, snapping shots of the celebrities that come through his father's restaurant. Since his old man died, he's been running the place, and there hasn't been much of a change really…" She laced her fingers, resting her chin on them as she watched him watch the other man. "So we don't complain. It's just an added part of the bill that he has the right to take the occasional photo. He usually leaves me alone, especially when I'm on business but…he's got the eyes of a hawk, that one. He knew better with you; and with Matsuda-san too."

"Did you let Matsuda-san get a picture?" Light asked, finally dropping the questioning stare to return his attention to her, noting that she was already using his co-worker's first name. 

She smirked at him. "No…he thought he'd be a gentleman and decline." 

"I see." 

"Would _you_ like a picture?" She regarded him with an arch expression, leaning back and crossing her long legs to get comfortable. "You don't seem the type to mind so much."

"What do you mean by that?" Light feigned innocence, glancing over the short menu. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh, don't be coy. You're gorgeous, and you know it. I might have been slightly hysterical when I made the offer to get in you in the business, but I meant it. You'd do well."

"I don't like people enough to model for them."

"Oh, that's charming." She laughed, tapping one manicured nail against her cheek as she watched him. "You don't have to, to be a model. You can hate the world, and as long as you stand up straight and smile while you do it, they really don't give a damn."

It was Light's turn to raise an eyebrow at the language. "That's wasn't very lady-like."

"No, I suppose it wasn't. My apologies." She hardly seemed apologetic, instead reaching for the bottle of wine that sat unopened at the edge of the table. "And while you're not the type to drink, I do believe you can appreciate a fine wine?"

It wasn't a question, and Light regarded her carefully for a moment. There was a decided coolness to her manner that spoke of business, and certain hardness to her eyes that spoke of competition. She was not a fragile creature, not by any means…there was more to Misa Amane than met the eye. For the first time, Light seriously began to consider the accident that almost killed her, and the possibility that there was really was foul play involved. Granted, he'd also blinked twice at the autopsy report, especially after Matsuda slapped it on his desk and then stormed outside without a word, but…the idea of _murder_?

She handed him his glass, and he toasted and sipped without hesitation. If she were involved in some form of poisoning, he was sure she wasn't stupid enough to do it in a moving vehicle, and also not in public. Her reputation already had the glorified stain of a death, the buzz of her near-fatal accident still turning columns occasionally. Against his will, he felt his interest perk in the direction of Matsuda's private investigation.

"You're a very perceptive woman, Amane-san."

"Practice makes perfect. When your only weapon seems to be your body, you learn to hide the more dangerous one behind false pretense. I drive a hard bargain, Yagami-san, and I'm very good at what I do. I can throw cards with the best of them. I am a business woman, and I fancy myself smart enough to make a career out of smiling pretty for the camera. You, on the other hand…are _extremely_ intelligent." She sipped at her glass, leaving a faint imprint of gloss upon the crystal. "Intelligent enough to make me feel stupid and I've had your company less than an hour."

Extremely perceptive, Light mentally corrected himself. He was saved from having to respond by the waiter coming to take their order. He noticed that Gojima himself served them, and tactfully placed himself between Light and the would-be paparazzi man across the room. His grudge lightened somewhat. 

He watched the host leave before commenting. "You do look stunning tonight. Forgive me for not remarking on it sooner."

"It just shows that it doesn't matter to you…which I find terribly interesting, I must say. Most men would be drooling down my cleavage by now, if you'll forgive my crudeness."

"I do forgive it, because I don't see how you can stand it. Why do you open yourself up to such attention if you don't enjoy it?" Light inquired, honestly curious.

"Ah, well." She fingered one of her upswept pony-tails thoughtfully. "Surprisingly enough, I do enjoy it to some extent, but it's a touchy matter to explain."

Light frowned. "If you'd rather discuss something else…"

"Oh, stop it. What else have we to discuss but ourselves? It's simply that I know that the majority of my fan-base finds me beautiful, and simply admire that aspect of me. I love that. The few that I'm disgusted with are sadly the ones that I have to deal with in person…the ones that seek to make money off of me, or those boys that lust for me at the signings, and those silly girls who model themselves after me because they have pathetic opinions of themselves." 

"I can understand that being troublesome."

"You don't strike me as people-person at all, Yagami-san." She wrinkled her nose at him, smiling. "That's why I find it so interesting that you jumped out of your car and came to my rescue…you and your friend."

Light tensed before he could help it. 

"Was I not supposed to remember him?" She tilted her head curiously. "A slender man, pale, with black hair?"

"Ryuuzaki-kun did not wish to be acknowledged in the rescue."

"He must be shy. Hmm." Her smile faded, and he noticed that the idea of L lacking confidence made her lose interest. She shook her head, waving at nothing. "Well anyway, he has my sincerest thanks as well. So tell me about you, Yagami-san. Is there anyone special?"

Light coughed into his wine, setting the glass down quickly. "That is a decided _no_, I'm afraid."

"And a decided 'Not Interested' unless I've somehow gone insipid in the last few minutes." She added wryly.

"I didn't intend to sound rude, but you are right…I am…extraordinarily intelligent, and I find it hard to-"

"Talk to the common folk?" She giggled at him. "Careful there. That almost sounded like a god-complex waiting to be born."

He found himself grinning at that, glancing back over the restaurant and memorizing faces as L taught him and paranoia had originally inspired. "I won't deny that. I'm an arrogant bastard and I know it." 

"So there's no one at all that catches your attention?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I bet I could."

Light stared across the table. "I beg your pardon?"

"I bet I could get your attention, if you'd let me. You'd be quite a catch." She laced her fingers and rested her chin on them again, lip glittering in the light. "Are you sure I'm not the one to work away those walls?"

Light was not smiling anymore. He considered how rude it would be to walk away from the table at this point, and how much hell he'd catch from his mother if he did. Impeccable manners won out, as always, and he found himself trapped by his own steel will to the finish the meal out. Never mind how stressful the evening became. 

"No, I'm afraid you're not. In fact…that was almost a complete turnoff." 

Her mouth fell open in surprise, her hand forming tiny fists on the table. "Are you _serious_?"

He nodded.

"…Well…damn it." She huffed, crossing her arms in a pout. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And you're not helping your case any." He added with a smirk. 

She stared for another minute, and then quite abruptly started laughing. Her hand came to cover her pretty mouth as she turned away in her mirth. Light shifted in discomfort as other patrons turned smiles in his direction, but the bubbly sound didn't die away for a few minutes at least. Finally, she wiped tears from her eyes, and regarded him with a breathless smile. "Oh, I like you, Yagami-san. I really do. Thank you for coming."

XXXX

Light lifted his face from the pillow and stared blankly at his headboard for a moment. Slowly, so slowly, his eyes slid over to his nightstand, phone blinking two missed calls, and his clock telling him that yes, he was late. So very late, and that wasn't surprising. After all, he'd only crawled into bed at three that morning, after an exhausting capture and the addition of another closed case to his record. He'd been too tired to even undress, collapsing into his pillow and blankets fully clothed…his shoulder gear dug into his side painfully. He'd slept with his gun on. 

He twitched and his entire body screamed at him. Last night, he'd chased his criminal for a few city blocks before he and Matsuda cornered him in a parking lot and made the arrest. His legs felt like he'd run a marathon, lethargic and aching with spent adrenaline. He gave up and let his head return to its cotton-and-down cradle, content to remain still while he tried to figure out what it was that had woken him. 

There was a moment of silence, nothing but the quiet click of the ceiling fan above him, and then the intrusion came again…the insistent, heart-breaking sound of someone knocking on his door.

The thought registered, and the sound, now that it carried some definition, was extremely loud and repetitive. The question of whether or not it warranted getting out of bed was already answered. If he ignored it, they would likely continue to knock, and therefore ruin any rest he might still garner from his fluffy paradise. However, there was a sixty-two percent chance that it was someone from work, likely his father or Matsuda come to check on him. 

The thought of seeing the always cheerful, always _awake_, detective almost made him groan aloud. He liked the man well enough in the office, but surely three in the morning was enough to put even Touta Matsuda under for an afternoon. Speaking of, he thought as he glanced at the clock, it was nearing one already. He'd missed lunch, and he hadn't called in, so unless Takimura had taken something powerful before coming into the office, he was likely furious and ready to fire him. Not that he would, of course, but there would be ranting involved, and Light was sure that the second his grogginess cleared away, there would be a headache there with a whip in hand. Ranting was not on his list of favored things to endure, even without the threat of a migraine.

The knocking kept up, and with a final sigh, Light said goodbye to his pillow and crawled out of bed. His holster's buckle had left an imprint in both his shirt and stomach because he'd been lying on his chest to sleep. A quick glance at his attire was enough to disgust him…there was still dirt imbedded in his knees from the struggle to cuff the murderer. Light's bureau was one of the few in the Japanese police force that was allowed to carry a hidden pistol, but there were strict repercussions for unauthorized draw or fire of the gun. 

Light wished he'd shot him…these pants were ruined.

He smelled like asphalt and something sharper…something cloying. He frowned, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to look at the back of the fabric. 

"God damn it, Jutsuiko." There was a smear of blood on the once starch-crisp blue linen, likely from the busted lip the man had given to Matsuda while they fought. He should have _shot_ the bastard.

The knocking came again, reminding Light of why he'd even bothered to stand up, and with a second final sigh, he resolved to make it to the door this time. His shoes were untied, but he hadn't had the energy to actually kick them off when he'd stumbled in this morning, so he did it now, lest he trip on his way to greet his unwanted visitor. He was hoping it was his father, but he was braced for Matsuda. He could handle it…one foot in front of the other. Deal with the idiot, make some coffee, shower, get dressed, go into work and pretend nothing had happened. 

The walk down the hall was steadier, calibrated as his mind finally sorted through the mess. Light didn't mind getting up; it was the waking up part that he abhorred with every fiber in his soul. Again, he found himself musing that in reality…he hated a lot of things. He considered it a curse of his intellect.

…And his mother, because God knew, the woman was picky. It was likely her fault that he was so disdainful himself.

He paused outside the door, the knocking resounding in his skull now, insistent, worried, demanding, and so frustrating that he considered running back to the bedroom, just to spite whoever waited outside. He didn't _want_ to open the door!

Yet, despite his screaming cerebral cortex, half un-tucked and bloodstained shirt, and aching legs, Light found himself reaching for the door handle. 

No sooner had the lock cleared the latch than the door came flying inward, a rush of rain and lightening scented wind sweeping over him like a splash of water. Standing on his doorstep, panting, bedraggled, and staring intently at nothing, was L. The detective blinked and seemed to realize that the door was open, his eyes shifting a fraction to make real contact with Light's. The bottom of Light's stomach fell out, and this was worse than Matsuda…a lot worse. Why was L here? Granted his mind was functioning enough for him to know that the detective had been gone three weeks as planned, and it was about time he flew back in, but his common sense was apparently still on his pillow. 

L stared at him, water slicking through his hair and falling to his shoulders. His light coat was drenched through, and the man didn't look at all happy about it. There was a terrible storm raging outside, thunder purring every few minutes, and the winds were strong enough to throw water under the covered area and render its protection useless. 

Light was still stuck on the fact that it was L on his doorstep, and had yet to realize that it was less than sunny beyond his doorstep.

"I've been out here for fifteen minutes." The detective muttered darkly, and Light snapped out of his daze enough to open the door and gesture him inside. He came and brought the scent of rain with him, still barefoot, still soaked to the bone. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard about the capture last night, and wanted to be annoying, so I thought I'd drag you out of bed to play tennis. However, I did not anticipate the storm's ferocity or the fact that you would likely sleep better when it rains."

"Everyone does." 

"Regardless, I have quite lost interest in playing tennis now." The detective shoved his hands into his pockets with a defining _squelsh_. "May I take my coat off?"

Light cursed himself, still not entirely functional. "Of course, just…the dining area has hard wood flooring." 

"I understand." L nodded, and obediently moved off of the carpet to the wooden floor. He peeled the coat from his shoulders and tossed it over the back of a chair before climbing onto the chair itself and assuming his crouch. "At least I can count on Light-kun's apartment to be warm." 

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please." The detective watched him make his way into the kitchen. Luckily for Light, the act of making coffee was almost a habit by now…he'd been doing it since he was fourteen. The process was mindless, and while it didn't help him wake up any, it also didn't bother his head so much. L's voice sounded from the table. "Light-kun has not changed clothing yet has he?"

"Not yet."

"Do not wash that shirt…it can be-"

"Used as evidence in the case, I know. It's not mine, the blood belongs to Matsuda."

"Was he injured?"

"Cut his lip." Light remarked, glancing over. "I should get you some clothes."

"I will dry soon enough. I doubt they would fit me well anyway."

Light was content to let the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence while the coffee brewed. He had no sugar jar, because he rarely used it, so he ended up pulling an unopened pound-bag from his baking supplies and opening that to get L his sugar. He fixed both cups, and L rose to get his own from the counter. 

Light frowned, noticing the way the detective's hand shook slightly. "Are you alright?"

"…I am tired…and stressed." As though to further his point, he tipped the mug back and downed the entire cup of coffee in one go. Light winced because it had to have hurt…his cup was almost too hot to hold. The detective never blinked. "I am not functioning at my full capacity today, I'm afraid. I haven't been sleeping well."

"And you honestly expected to show up and call me out to tennis when you're in this shape?"

"Ah well." L chuckled wryly, refilling his cup. "It got me in the door at least. How did the capture go?"

"It ended in a chase, Matsuda and I leading. He took us through a park before we caught him in the parking lot. I should have shot him."

"No, you may have liked to, but you shouldn't have." Without warning, the detective reached across and clicked his holster open, removing his pistol. Light tensed, but said nothing, still amazed he'd been able to sleep in the shoulder gear at all. "It is in perfect condition."

"Never been fired."

"Then how do you know it works?"

Light had nothing to say to that, and L contented himself with dumping more sugar into his coffee and stirring. He continued to appraise the weapon in his still shaking hands. "That was slightly morbid of me, wasn't it?"

"Just a bit." 

L smirked a bit, eyeing the gun glassily as he sipped on his second cup of coffee at a pace that indicated he might actually have tasted it. Light glanced at his watch and sighed as the tiny hands clicked solidly into place at one fifteen. He'd been due at the office at seven. 

"Don't bother." L remarked between sips. "You're not going to go in."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I'm here, and I don't think you'll leave me here alone, for one thing. Secondly, my guess is that somewhere between the shower and your closet, you'll unconsciously decide that you're going to wear to jeans and a t-shirt, and that Takimura can die of an apoplectic fit if he must. You're not going anywhere."

"Still…I should at least call."

"And subject yourself to a screaming fit when you already don't feel well, and have an unexpected visitor who is expecting you to be pleasant?"

"Perhaps calling is a bad idea."

"Takimura may be an ass, but he is still an officer…he will understand." L nodded candidly. 

Light wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about the way L was studying the firearm that he didn't like. The look was openly curious, but too thorough to be a feigned interest. L knew what he was looking at, and possibly how to handle it. He held it loosely in one hand, stroking his thumb over the metal. Light took his first real sip of his somewhat cooler coffee and reached for it. 

L pulled it out of his reach, eyeing him. The idle smirk turned into something serious, darker with amusement as L glanced between him and the weapon. 

"Can Light-kun take it from me?"

Light blinked at him. "What?"

"Light-kun must fight me for his gun." L stated simply, his eyes still slightly distant and his cup still trembling a little in his hands. 

Light didn't want to play. "No, I won't." 

"Yes." L drawled, pulling it further out of reach. "You will. Or it is mine." 

The younger detective stared hard at him, caramel eyes uncomprehending as he tried to imagine what L was thinking. His eyes betrayed nothing, though perhaps, just maybe, his awareness drifted a little closer, a little more life coming to his obsidian gaze. He didn't have L's full attention, not yet, and he didn't intend to garner it by succumbing to his poor temper and indulging the detective's eccentric suggestion. Instead, he merely stared, translating his every ounce of will and lack of energy into a dead pan gaze. 

L's smirk deepened, as he pulled slightly away from Light's side now. "Oh, you don't play fair."

"What are-"

"It's just a game." The detective cut him off smoothly, setting his coffee cup down. "Something to distract me, perhaps. I'm not sure." 

"L, I'm tired."

"Then consider it a training exercise. After all…at least you have the guarantee that I'll give it back eventually. Any other situation, you might not be as lucky." 

"L…please." 

The detective stared at him for another moment, but much to Light's dismay, his serious attitude wasn't having the desired the effect. Instead of driving L into submission, like it would have any normal human being, Light's glare only seemed to further his amusement. "No. Take it."

"Damn it." Light set his cup down with a clatter and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not in the mood! Just give it to me!"

"You certainly whine a lot, do you know this?" L taunted, still refusing. The pistol hung loosely in one hand as L set his own cup down. "Are you afraid I'll be better than you at this too? Something so simple?"

It was a well placed jab, one that would have led to a real fist-fight had it fallen from anyone else's lips. As it were, Light made his decision then and there that L would regret it when all was said and done…whether Light got his pistol back or not. He felt himself straighten, bracing both palms on his glass stove top, knowing without looking that L was grinning like a Cheshire cat in his victory.

Light gave no warning, but L had anticipated that. His fist closed around a slender, damp wrist, twisting it up to lock it over his shoulder, but there was retaliation. He ducked his head in time to keep from getting pistol-whipped across the temple, and his hold failed. Quite suddenly, his feet were no long beneath him as L stepped out of the lock and behind him, a quick sweep taking him harshly to his knees…knees already bruised by his work, and the pain was electric, sweetly sharp as abused skin received another blow. Something of a growl passed his lips before L dropped into a crouch behind him, and there was a sudden explosion of pain knocking him across the kitchen floor as the detective kicked him between the shoulder blades. There was hardly time for Light to catch himself, the hit left him so breathless. 

He landed on his elbows and stomach, spared cracking his chin on the floor by sheer luck and reflex. Spots danced before his eyes as for a split second, his lungs refused to function, refused to give him _air_. There was a sharp grip in the strap of his shoulder holster, and then he was lifted bodily and turned over. L's knees planted themselves beside his hips, his fist tangled in Light's shirt and tie, forcing him up…

…Only to stare down the barrel of his own loaded gun. 

His blood ran cold, and then hot, so _hot_, because this was something else…this was something else entirely. His eyes flickered up from the never-ending barrel to L's eyes, and there was nothing to be had in the way of help or pity there. His eyes were coals, sharp and alive, and they were going to tear Light's soul apart. Amusement, a sadistic smirk, the tilt the of eyebrows, the set of the chin…all registered, but meant nothing in the wake of the triumph and possession of L's stare. They were faint signals of reality, of humanity, alongside fires that didn't belong in this realm. 

For a moment, there was no sound but the soft patter of rain somewhere else, somewhere where time was still _moving_ and Light was still late for work. Here, in this moment, in this fractured second that L had granted him to realize his defeat, there rose only rhythmic panting of his own breath, and the quiet drip of water from L's hair to dampen his chest. His loss and confusion must have been evident on his features, because L's smirk slowly darkened again as he tipped the gun in mimicry of a shot.

"_Bang_." The detective whispered.

He'd lost. He'd been so thoroughly out of his element, so out of place, so _wrong_, that he'd lost, and L now sat above him, superior, victorious…

If Light had expected anything, anything at all, it wasn't the shock of sheer arousal that started in the base of his skull and ran its course down his spine, sending a shiver through his frame. He became acutely aware of the aches of his body, tired from last night's works and this sudden, inexplicable bout of action. The pain was bittersweet alongside his thudding heart, his eyes widening slowly as the desire made itself known. His breath would not come to him, though in the moment's clarity, he could smell the rain clinging to the detective's clothing. Unadulterated power, the fire of sexual tension wound its way tight into his lower belly and slowly spread further below. Underneath the stare he was receiving, that he'd in truth received a few times before, he felt trapped and_ alive_…grudgingly responsive to unwarranted stimuli. Fists clenched, his eyes returned to the gun, unable to meet the detective's stare. To meet his eyes was to acknowledge what the man was doing to him, and that was not possible. It was not acceptable, it was…unthinkable. Still, the sparks traversing his skin told him otherwise, told him that he was not crazy, and that this erection was happening whether he wanted it to or not. It was just a reaction, normal, he told himself. It was nothing important, nothing worthy of shame or even recognition. He was lucky enough that L was sitting up on his heels, and there wasn't any contact…there at all. The detective didn't know.

God, he'd _lost_.

L's voice was quiet, yet as startling as thunder itself in the wake of the stony silence following the struggle. The purr of it did nothing to ease Light's tension, sending another jolt to his groin. "Is something wrong?"

"It's loaded." Light supplied; his eyes still on the pistol. He could not look at L. Could not. 

"Is it really, now?" L drawled quietly, his finger easing off the trigger guard.

He clicked the safety off. Light inhaled sharply, against his will returning his eyes to the detective. There was no change in expression there, but he held Light captive with a live weapon. He wasn't afraid, not of the _gun_ at any rate…but he needed to get out of this situation. Now. He licked his lips slowly and held his hands up, forcing a smile. "Alright. I give."

L chuckled. "I'm making you nervous."

"I…yeah." Light looked away, wincing slightly at the angle L was forcing him into. "You're starting to."

The detective eased him to the ground without a word of apology. "I hadn't expected you to submit so easily."

Light held his breath and glanced back up. "Yeah well…it's not like that thing is plastic. Let me up?"

"You're right." The detective tipped the gun away and shifted to the side. "I shouldn't have-"

Light gasped. With his movement to the side, the detective's thigh pressed gently along his hips, creating a delicious pressure in the worst possible of places. Sparks of pleasure ground through his nerves, refusing to be ignored, and he hated himself for the noise, for the gasp, the _confession_….

L's eyes twitched wider in surprise, and the detective froze in place. So close to escape, to a cold shower and forgetting this nightmare ever happened, Light watched his hopes dashed as the light of intrigue joined the one of amusement in those obsidian eyes. The gun slipped back to its original position, trapping him in place again. 

The detective shifted deliberately, and stars danced before Light's eyes, his back coming off the tile at the movement. His voice sounded rough, quiet, and infuriatingly desperate to his own ears. "_Don't!_"

"What on earth," L asked, cocking his head as he shifted and trailed a finger down the length of the obvious bulge in Light's khakis. "Has gotten you so aroused?"

"_Stop it!_" Light hissed, coming off the floor again to grab his wrist. 

L placed the gun beneath his chin, easing him back to the floor. "Answer me."

"The fight." He gritted through his teeth, closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at that face…at that smirk. 

Quite suddenly, L's full weight rested across his hips as the detective eased himself down. Light's eyes shot open again, lips parted in shock as pleasure killed any words that might have left his tongue. L watched him carefully, tracing his jaw-line with the barrel. "Was it the situation, Light-kun?"

Light nodded tersely, ignoring the pistol to grab his hips in an attempt to lighten the pressure on his-

The gun pulled away entirely, and Light paused, daring to glance up at the detective. L held the pistol away for him to see. "Don't move." 

And Light…didn't. 

God, he'd _lost_.

"Don't move." L repeated quietly, and Light watched in equal parts horror and fascination as the man leaned over him and set the gun down on the floor. With a nudge, it went skidding out of reach. Too late, Light realized that he could fight freely now, and too late did he look away from the gun to find L still moving. 

His wrists were trapped and slammed to the wood. 

Light stopped breathing. His heart fell dead in his chest as the detective's hand tightened into something almost painful, and held him there, captive. Waves of heat took him over, fire sweeping across his skin, down to pool in his belly and make him tremble. He tried to snatch away, frustrated, _aching_, and found himself pinned as though he were nothing. The movement caused an unnecessary shift, and detective encouraged it, rocking his hips down against Light's. 

"_Don't_ do that."

"Yes, that's what I thought…." L chuckled, water falling from his hair to roll down his captive's cheek. "It was not the fight…it was the domination."

"No, it wasn't." Denial. Sweet and silver on his tongue, even as he hated himself for being so weak as to try and put up a front after he'd been discovered. 

"Yes. It was." L insisted quietly, leaning down to make his point. "You _lost_."

And he'd enjoyed it. It went unspoken, but left him to shiver beneath those eyes, dropping his own and looking away. He was just tired. There was no other reason for it. God, he was pathetic. The tension left his body in defeat, relaxing under the detective's grip. 

"Light, look at me."

"Just let me go." He muttered, still refusing the detective his contact. He felt him pull back. 

"I took this too far, I think. We were not ready for this." 

Light growled, suddenly furious, and L really did have to restrain him then, because he'd swung without thought. He was spared the blow only by his strategic grip. "What the HELL? What are you playing at?!"

"I'm merely…playing the game you began, years ago. When you decided I was more interesting than Debussy, just for a moment." L answered him seriously. "I've been trying to learn everything I can about you since we met, and you've given me precious little. I'll take what I get."

"Let me up, _now_, before I do something drastic."

"Light, don't-"

"That gun is still loaded." The sheer venom in his voice surprised even him, but he didn't falter under the wounded look that the detective gave him. 

"I'm sorry. I'll…leave you to shower and rest." The detective stood and stepped over him, heading for the table and his coat. 

Light propped himself up and stared harshly after him, furious. The detective plucked his jacket from over the chair's edge and glanced back at him, eyes questioning. Yet again, Light had managed to rob him of his victory, but the reward was a bitter one, and he gained no satisfaction from it. He held him there for a long moment, refusing to let him leave. 

"I'll see you at the concert, L." He muttered darkly, before adding, "And not before."

The detective nodded slowly, his eyes again distant. "Very well then. Thank you for the coffee."

"Go."

And he left, leaving Light in his kitchen floor, staring at a discarded pistol as though it were poisonous. He never did pick it up…it remained in the floor until the next morning, when he dressed for work. 

XXXX

AN- So um, don't kill me for that, mmmkay? It had to happen eventually, and now I've got to deal with the aftermath. (sigh) I hope it was worth the wait, ladies and gents. It's now nearing three AM and I am a tired wolf. Any grammatical errors will be corrected tomorrow, when I have enough brain cells to see them. O.o 

Step Lightly, and thank you for reading. 


	9. Chapter 9

AN- Hello! Sorry for the long update, but I'm afraid work has eaten my life lately. Expect longer update times, but not by much, I promise. I'm just having trouble finding time to write. I can promise you though, that none of my works will ever be abandoned. Ever. Ever, Ever.

That being said, I'm so glad you all like that last chapter. Hope you like this one too.

XXXX

The next day, a Thursday, as it were, turned out to be the longest day of Light's still brief career. It was not only long, it was arduous, grinding, and exultantly cruel, because not only was it a Thursday…it was _the_ Thursday. The concert was in mere hours, and while Light had experienced this paranoid tension numerous times in the past, never before had it been terrible enough to completely shut him down.

Light, a genius, could not think.

He sat at his desk, refusing to read the profile in front of him after he'd memorized the first three lines. The victim's name, age and height were listed above the autopsy report, and there were five words, twenty four letters, four numbers, and about thirty symbols altogether, perhaps thirty three if he counted the colons, and holy _God_, what was wrong with him?

Light could not think.

More accurately, he refused to think. Thinking led to thoughts that he would not tolerate interfering with his daily agenda…at least, more so than they already were. He had work to do at the moment, and if he were going to allow himself to wonder about what had happened, he might as well go home. He was accomplishing something, at least. His screensaver clicked on, and with his monitor suddenly dark, Light felt the beast of his frustration begin to rip at his chest again. Seven hours until the concert…that thought used to bring a kind of joyous anticipation, a wonderful sort of tension that wound its merry way into his bones and made him snap and twitch until the time was up. Concerts used to be a thing to look forward to. Concerts _now_, however, meant L. L, detective extraordinaire, super sleuth and closet pervert. He'd hinted at varying deviances throughout their relationship (because who in their right minds eats cookies for dinner?) and Light had been content to let it go as the quirks of a fellow genius. He possessed many himself, such as refusing to wear striped or diamond patterned ties…solid colors actually dominated his wardrobe, aside from one or two designer shirts he only wore when he felt like getting some attention.

Seven hours left, not until the concert, but until he had to face L again. The threat of refusing his company until the show was a bit superfluous when the event was two days away but at the time, it had been instinctive. L could not deny him that. The detective might make him pay for lunch, perhaps, or deny him an interesting case when irritated with him, but when Light outright said "Go Away." L usually listened. Usually.

…Regardless, it was entirely Light's fault that he would be seeing the detective tonight, despite his every screaming nerve telling him to run in the opposite direction like a little girl who'd just had her pigtail cut off. There was tension, oh yes, an abundance of that, but it wasn't the kind that Light was used to. It was the type that soured the stomach, the fear-induced anticipation of an animal awaiting a fight after…losing the first. What did he say to the man that had given him his first taste of domination? How the hell was he was supposed to look the detective in the eye, much less sit next to him for an indeterminate amount of time, and close enough to touch?

To touch…Light shuddered violently and laid his head upon his arms. It was a despairing moment, with the weight of his gun still strapped to his side. The holster pulled tight across his shoulders and stomach, like it had when L had captured his wrists, and the sensation was just….

Light sat up again immediately, giving the two pens on his desk a blank stare of absolute loathing. Fuck, he'd _lost_, hadn't he…and it hadn't been on the floor of his apartment the other night, it was here. When he couldn't sit still, and he could think straight enough to do anything _but_ sit. His computer beeped feebly and went into standby, as though in affirmation of his pathetic ineptitude.

Slowly reaching forward to wrap his fingers around a pen, he resigned himself to acknowledging the damage, for the sake of the dwindling hours left to his work day. His first and easiest instinct to follow was to compare the situation to his cases, and study it as objectively as possible. The logic should prove insightful where his emotions didn't. Apparently, he enjoyed domination…to what extent, he didn't know, but being overpowered as he had was certainly an interesting experience. He made a note to begin taking one or two of the martial arts courses the academy offered, to ensure that it didn't happen again. The pen began to tap as he rolled it in his fingers, counting on the mundane motion of boredom to help him tame his thoughts. Arousal from sexual domination was not an uncommon thing… in fact, one half of almost every couple in the world preferred to be the submissive partner. He was not a freak of nature for enjoying a little rough-housing. That fact was accepted easily enough, and catalogued away into the recesses of his common sense for later support….because he'd definitely need it later. Why had he enjoyed it? He found that, in all honesty, he'd never lost at anything until L stepped into the picture. He was losing all the time now, arguments, tennis matches, cases…it was a natural progression.

That thought stopped him like a train wreck in his subconscious. No…no there was nothing _natural_ about that progression. It wasn't even progression, in reality. It was a complete and total roadblock, a bloody brick wall thrown up in their relationship. _Friendship_. Progression implied that the reaction was caused by L himself, and not the situation. That was just ridiculous, of course, because L was a man. Moving on.

The next question was a little harder to ask, but easy enough to answer. Had L intended for it to become sexual domination?

Light could think of two dozen other things he'd rather be contemplating right now…especially with his father two feet in front of him.

Not at first, Light grudgingly admitted to himself. L had merely been playing around because he was tired and had overworked himself again. They were both too exhausted to play tennis, so he'd sought another form of amusement. Light was just unlucky enough to be at hand. No, when L had first taken the gun, there hadn't been any ill will or sexual intent evident. Later however…on the floor….

Light felt his stomach tighten, and the pen tapped a little faster. Up until the point that L discovered his arousal, there had been no foul play. It was only Light's obvious…predicament that had caused the situation to tip into the realm of sexual dominance. He was fairly positive that L was oblivious to Light's tension before that, and even if he'd noticed it, the fact that there was a pistol in Light's face would likely buy him some innocence. It had been a _gun_, after all.

He honestly hadn't counted on the detective himself being the loaded pistol however…whether the original intent had anything to do with it or not, it had been L that brought the sexual aspect into it. By replacing the gun with…himself, more or less, he'd been testing for reaction.

…And Light still remembered the way he'd _twitched_ when L had ghosted his fingers….

Fuck.

It was a reaction that Light was coming to regret every passing minute. Not that it could helped, of course, but there wasn't much to be said for the fact that Light continued to lay there for at least five minutes before attempting to get away. Those were five minutes in which he allowed the detective to have control of him in a very personal way. In the _mos_t personal way, because that had crossed the line of playful banter and gone into teasing, something that was intimate and undeniable. When the detective released him from gunpoint only to pin him to floor with his hands and hips, he'd lost all hope of retracting his actions as anything less than teasing. He could no longer back away and call it a game, just a bit of humor, because when he'd rocked his hips against Light's it had not, been, funny. How that could be considered harmless entertainment by anyone other than horny teenagers and grown harlots was beyond him.

Of course, Light reminded himself as the tips of his ears began to burn, he hadn't exactly protested. Not really…at least, not like he should have. If Light knew anything at all, it was himself, and if he'd really wanted to throw the detective off of him, he was fairly sure it was possible. If he'd even been remotely serious in his denials and demands, L would have gotten up. The man upheld the law for a living; they both knew the meaning of 'no'. Unfortunately…Light hadn't been saying 'no'. 'Stop,' maybe, but his protest were certainly not of the 'I don't want this,' variety.

L knew that.

That was the real twist of the knife, and had he been younger and less composed, he'd have likely flushed crimson at the very thought of it. He'd told L to stop, but he hadn't asked, he hadn't meant it, and the second he'd lost control of his breathing, the second that his eyes had widened, L had known. He hadn't stopped, he hadn't let him go, he'd _moved_, and Light voice had betrayed him almost as surely as his body did. There had been no second chances, no denials, and his words were meaningless and empty.

So…L knew.

Light really didn't know what to do about that, or even if there was anything to be done. It felt almost as though L had some kind of power over him now. Granted, he had no idea what possible power it was, but it was something wasn't it? Perhaps he was merely blowing it out of proportion by letting it consume his thoughts.

With the concert…and more importantly, L…less than six hours away, however, it was growing increasingly difficult to think about anything else. Light rubbed his eyes and sighed.

XXXX

L was peering into his empty box of Hello Panda cookies when Light climbed into the limousine. It was not an uncommon sight, and the normality of it eased his mind somewhat. There was always the minute sliver of a chance that L might not force him to discuss the issue.

All hope of that was dashed, however, when L nonchalantly reached over his head and pushed a button. The black panel of the window between cab and driver rose slowly, and the silence that followed had to be the most annoying thing since the man himself. If Watari had picked up on any change in their relationship, he said nothing of it, nor did he question the sudden bid for privacy. It was a trait that Light usually admired in the older gentleman, but tonight it consigned him to a prison, because he would rather strangle the man than open his mouth and have this conversation. Really, he would.

L sat at the inner corner of the limo this time, closest to the driver window. It made Light cringe inwardly to see him in such close proximity to t man behind the wheel. The idea that L had discussed the…problem with Watari absolutely turned his stomach, and he resolved that no matter how the evening went, he would _never_ ask that question. The thought was almost as terrifying as explaining the situation to his father would be. His natural paranoia made him want to claim L's original seat, as far from the detective as possible. However, his pride and common sense argued against it…he wouldn't want to appear overly uncomfortable, because really, nothing was _his_ fault. Anyway, this was a rather delicate subject, and discussing it over eight feet of empty space with only a wall of glass between them and possibly prying ears wasn't a good idea.

Then again, he _might_ have discussed it with Watari already, at which point all hope of discretion died like so many Hello Panda cookies.

L continued to ignore him for another moment after he reclaimed his usual seat in the center of the long bench and shut the door. Light could see the tension in him, and was reminded of that first night, so long ago, when L told him that he would be leaving. There was nothing to be said for it now, because the new tension lay solely between the two of them. L gave up on fishing crumbs from his box and set it to the side. His dark eyes wandered the cab for a moment before finding Light's.

"I wish you wouldn't sit like that, Light-kun. I am not going to attack you."

"I'm more comfortable this way, for the time being," He replied coldly. His arms and legs remained crossed, folding himself into a decidedly smaller, more defensive position. He made no excuses for what he was doing, because it was not _his_ fault that their peace had been shattered. He'd had nothing to do with it. Still, as he sat there, quietly regarding the detective, he could not call back the rage and embarrassment he'd felt when the man had released him after those few life-altering moments on the floor. Instead, he felt tired, resigned to what had happened, because hadn't he wasted his entire day pondering it, and the two before that in a daze so thick that he'd been of no use to anyone? To say that the detective had blown his mind would be an understatement…there was nothing like a momentous self-discovery to render one incapable of basic daily function.

L pressed his lips into his knee, a gesture Light now associated with the man trying to organize his many and distant thoughts. It was not that L wasn't paying Light his full attention…his eyes were completely focused and alive. Light knew that the full portent of the situation had likely staggered L as much as it had him. There weren't words to describe how they were handling the situation, just that it was progressing steadily and they were naught but captives to it, trapped by the chains of the easy companionship they'd once shared and obviously hoped to regain.

It was hard to believe that just a few months ago; Light had crossed his ankles and reclined lazily in these seats, content to bask in silence with his friend. The following realization that that kind of comfort would likely never occur again made his tongue bitter and his heart heavy. L lifted his head, and Light merely quirked an eyebrow to await what the man had to say.

"I believe this is the sixth time I have wasted breathe to apologize to you, but I feel I must-"

"I'm willing," Light paused, and L stopped immediately to hear him. Light wanted to smirk at the sudden submissive quality to the detective, but he could see the irritation in those dark eyes and decided his sentence was more important. "…to leave it at the fact that you were exhausted and not in your right mind."

L eyes widened a fraction in shock, and Light wondered how many times _tha_t particular reaction happened. Apologies were one thing, but how often was the greatest detective in the world surprised? "You were rather distracted, were you not?"

The man nodded at him. Light made a non-committal gesture and stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him with his cherished eye-contact. L considered it disrespectful, and that… summed Light's mood up rather nicely.

"Then let's forget it."

"I was expecting a rant. A righteous monologue, a berating speech…at the very least a cross word or two…I was not expecting a dismissal. Not from you."

"Fuck you. Was that cross enough?"

"…I have a hard time believing that you have forgiven me."

"I haven't…but I am also acknowledging the fact that there were…extenuating circumstances that put us both out of our normal capacity. We were exhausted, and we both had other things on our minds. Drop it."

L's eyes narrowed slightly. "You are ashamed of it."

Light's glare could melt glass. L tried to pin him with his level look, but the tips of Light's ears began to burn the longer he held the contact, and he turned away again. L continued on, his voice annoyingly calm for his words. "You keep referring to the both of us, as though you had done something wrong as well."

"What did you find out about the boy?" Discuss their misadventure or the missing child…perhaps it wasn't the politest way to change subjects, but Light wasn't interested in playing fair at this point.

Predictably, the detective merely narrowed his eyes. "Very well…we'll come back to that, however."

"No, we-"

L snapped the intercom on, cutting him off mid-sentence. It was Light's turn to exhale slowly in annoyance. L's dark eyes pegged him in place while he ordered sharply, "Watari, Light and I are in the middle of a conversation…please park in the garage and leave us there. We will be in before the concert begins."

The switch was off again before Watari could reply…and Light wasn't sure that he'd planned to, because after all, L _might_ have….

"The boy's name is Mello. He left the orphanage without warning or reason…which wasn't really expected of him, anyway. However, his best friend has recently followed him, stating that Mello had some business to take care of and that he, Matt, would be assisting him. Near, my third, is still at the orphanage and is trying to track them both down. I don't expect he'll be able to find them, however, because Mello is insanely clever, and more paranoid than you are."

Here, L paused for breath, and his eyes regained the slightly glassy look of a split mind…Light knew he was likely reviewing all of his information while he spoke. "Mello is gifted boy, but he has never really shown an aptitude for anything but destruction. Namely of himself or those he considers beneath him…and not knowing why he left troubles me greatly. There is a possibility he has left to find his parents, but I doubt it…he was happy enough at the orphanage, and never showed any interest in finding them before. He is obsessed with overpowering everything he sees, even if he doesn't quite view it so bluntly. He wishes to outdo me simply because I am good at I do, and his innate competitiveness is one of his finer features. I'm afraid it may lead to trouble, however."

"And Matt?"

"Matt has been with me the longest, and is positively gifted with technology. He tends to favor his games and computers to the exclusion of everything else…except perhaps Mello and I. He tolerates Near, but I was the one that fostered his talent with computers and programming and he hasn't forgotten it. Mello was the first person he ever bonded with on a personal level, however, and while _our_ arrangement is fond, it is still nearly business-like in comparison with _theirs_. Mello does not attempt to own or control Matt, and Matt tolerates Mello's more basic and volatile quirks. As long as none of his machinery is damaged, I really don't think he'd blink in the wake of one of Mello's rampages. I can't expect you understand the amount of patience the boy must possess, because you haven't _met_ Mello, much less an irritated one. The fact that he has volunteered to go after Mello is reassuring, but not by much, because Matt is also extremely opportunistic. Should he find Mello, and think himself better off in whatever situation greets him, he's likely to just settle in again, and not bother bringing him back or making contact with me."

Light nodded slowly, leaning forward as L divulged more of his life than Light had ever heard before. Fascination did not begin to cover his avid focus. "How old are they? And what of Near?"

"In various stages of eighteen, I believe. And Near? …Near is myself, twenty or so years ago, with no experience and no opportunities. He is more withdrawn than I am, but I think a few years in the field would loosen his tongue and force him to function at the level I know him capable of." L hid his mouth behind his knee again.

Light frowned. "What else?"

"Hmm?"

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"Hmm…Someone is looking for me."

"L, half the world is looking for you." Light knew the remark was unnecessary, and L's dead pan stare did nothing to soften it. He shrugged and braced his elbows on his knees and he continued quietly. "I mean that it isn't an uncommon thing…if it were that simple, you likely wouldn't be so worried."

"I am not worried."

"You've already lied to me once, L." Light shot back with a raised eyebrow. The detective hid his mouth again, brow furrowed as he considered his words.

"Someone is actively searching for me…someone with resources and power."

"An old enemy, perhaps?"

"I am not sure…but there are whispers in London, lately, and rumors in Paris."

"Perhaps it's Mello."

"…That is possible. However, I do not know the state of mind in which Mello left the orphanage. It may be Matt and Mello, choosing to be difficult rather than establish contact through Wammy's. Then again…they are both opportunists, and Mello is just as likely to _use_ an enemy to find me, merely so he can 'deliver' the criminal upon his victory. He is strange in his ways, but I do not doubt that he could manage. As I told you in the café, if any of the boys had left, I'd rather it be the two of them. They are more than capable of fending for themselves."

"However, they happen to be two of your three favorites, and you're going to be out of your mind until you find something out." L gave him a sharp look, and Light only smirked. L didn't deny the statement. "Either way, it isn't a good idea to be found. Let Near dig and you lie low for a bit. You said yourself that if Mello doesn't want to be found, he won't. If you couldn't turn up anything in the months you were gone, then you certainly won't accomplish anything until you rest. Let the fresher mind take the course for a while."

"I intend to…and that brings us back to our neglected topic."

What little bit Light had extended in the last few minutes of conversation, he snapped back just as quickly. His face settled into a mask that more a betrayal than he would have liked to admit, but he'd known this was coming. Worse he knew that there was nothing he could do to avoid it. He took to staring at the small bar directly across from him as he waited for L to make the first move.

As usual, the detective delivered. "I am not one to let things rest until they have thoroughly torn apart. I believe you know this."

"I don't see the point in going over this. Why push the issue when there's a logical explanation, and the slighted party is willing to forgive."

"Because you will _not_ forgive, and a logical explanation does not excuse what I've done. Every criminal in the world has a logical explanation."

"It wasn't anything so terrible to warrant an investigation either, however. There is no need to discuss it."

"The fact that you are so willing to run from it is highly annoying, I must confess. I had not expected such…submission from you. Not twice at least."

The jab was well placed, and that irritation that Light had earlier misplaced rekindled in his chest. He closed his eyes and bit his tongue. The limo rolled to a stop and the silence loomed, thick in the enclosed air of the cab. The intercom clicked on, and Light twitched again, because L _might_ have….

"I suppose I shall be inside, boys. I'll see you in a bit."

Light found he didn't want him to leave. The idea of being alone…truly alone with L was enough to bring that jagged tension back to his stomach, like a nest of thorns shifting position. Once again, it was not the joyous anticipation of the theatre. It was a cold thing, something that bordered fear.

The car door opened and closed quietly, and he was aware of movement behind his window. Watari, true to his word, walked away and left them sitting in the parked vehicle. Light felt the tension creep up his spine and tried to fight it…it was a weakness, to be afraid of the man he'd trusted. Fear was too strong a word, but the discomfort was nothing more than a diluted form of it, he was sure. L's dark eyes found him in the darker place, and Light realized how very far from civilization he felt at the moment. They were in a locked vehicle, anywhere between twenty and two hundred yards from the entrance, in a multi-level parking garage. Nestled between two other cars, the already dim light was practically nonexistent as it filtered through the tinted windows. L still had power in the cab…Light assumed it was a feature the driver controlled, but surprisingly, he became even more paranoid when L reached to turn the interior lights up a fraction. His eyes never left Light's face, and Light's never left the stray thread he'd found in the carpet. Perhaps it'd been caught on a shoe once, when he'd slid into the car.

"You are afraid of me."

Light just shook his head, a silent chuckle escaping in a rush of air. "I'm uncomfortable around you."

"You're too tense for that to suffice. Look at me."

Light ignored him for as long as possible. He didn't understand what he was asking, for Light to look at him. To look at him, make his cherished-eye contact, was to become a part of him for a brief moment. It pulled him away from himself, robbed him of his common sense in a fashion that Light didn't think possible until meeting those black hole for the first time. It also brought a part of him inside, forcing L to acknowledge every detail he was presented with. When the detective focused, really and truly focused, he was a powerful man, and tonight…Light felt weak.

"Light…look at me, please."

Light felt himself flinch, because that was unfair. To use his name like that, without honorifics, was intimate, and while he doubted the detective meant any sort of intimacy, it still showed the deathly serious mood he'd adopted. Correction, Light thought, that he'd been shoved into. Light wasn't making this easier on either of them, but in truth…he had no idea how to handle it. He could diffuse this situation like he could with other people. Takimura only needed frank consideration, honesty and threats did most of the work…and others like him only needed pretty words and shiny smiles to tear away tension and doubt and return to the easy-going peace they'd had before. It was simple, it was practiced, and it didn't work on L. It would never work on L. L would sooner reach over with a marker and paint his teeth black than be wooed into forgetting a problem. He'd known this…why had he bothered?

He was nervous.

"Light?"

Light closed his eyes tightly and sighed. He'd been trying to run, and it was L's right to bring him by the collar. They weren't strangers…L was not other people. L was his best friend, and if Light played by the society's rules of friendship, then technically L deserved an answer and chance to explain himself as much as Light did. According to the norm, they were supposed to talk about this. They were supposed to discuss and dissect and put it to rest, a scar on their relationship, but one they were stronger for. It wasn't Light's fault however, that he was new at this particular game and its rules. L himself had crossed one when he blurred the personal and the intimate, the rough-housing and…soft-core debauchery. According to _society_, that was the first mistake…and he seemed willing enough to admit it. That left Light…to discuss and forgive.

Light licked his lips and shifted his eyes to the ones that were waiting for him. The furrowed brow eased a bit at the contact, and the detective leaned back over his knees, somewhat more at ease. They were silent for a long moment, and someone in another world walked past a darkened limo on the way into the theatre, but there was nothing outside their four by ten feet of space and plush interior design. There was nothing else, really, worth looking at. Hanging there in the thick silence was the jagged edge of their torn trust, the second problem they'd faced since meeting. L had lied to him once…and it hadn't been something small, a little white untruth that could be overlooked and forgotten. The man had tampered with his schooling, knowingly shoved his hand in the workings of Light's life and rewired a few cords. While Light had forgiven him for that eventually, he wasn't sure of how to go about this situation at all. He couldn't stay angry at the detective like he could other people, because the detective mattered. Anyone else was subject to Light's objective dislike and ill manners because Light knew that he wouldn't have to deal with them for long afterwards. L, however, was not some stranger to be shoved aside. L was his best friend.

His best friend. It felt so strange for those words to echo through his thoughts, regardless of how long they'd been there and how long they'd been true.

L hid his mouth behind his knees for a moment, regarding Light with a blank expression and torn eyes. It was strange, to see through the mask and into his thoughts. He wondered how many people got the chance to do something so powerful….

"Does Light-kun still trust me?" And there was the third person, an instinctive action on the detective's part to be objective. It was an innocent gesture, probably habit by then, but Light noticed nonetheless.

Light sat for another moment, not allowing his surprise to show on his features. His lips did not part in shock, because Light Yagami never opened his mouth to speak until he was sure of his words. "Can I trust you, L?"

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation, the craving for vindication evident in the man's tone.

Light regarded him for another moment before nodding quietly. "Then yes, I do."

"Come here?" The detective lifted his hand from his knee and extended it, open in a bid for peace. Light stiffened, unaware that in their time of quiet thoughts he'd relaxed somewhat.

He shook his head. The detective frowned. "I'm not going to hurt you, or do anything untoward. Come here."

It was no longer a question, and it was no longer to be denied. Light's eyes narrowed at the command, his irritation and already wounded pride flaring like an unclosed burn. "What do you want?"

"I want…to show you something. It's an exercise in wielding your trust, if you will."

That was very carefully worded, Light marked. He didn't move, and the hand never wavered, it remained out and open, waiting. Then to his surprise, the detective shifted his feet to the floor and gestured him forward. The only time Light had ever seen the man sitting properly was the night at the concert where…L had stared at him, and driven him from the room in a panic.

"Light." The detective lowered his voice a bit, expression still a blank slate. "Please."

It wasn't fair…it wasn't fair of him to use that, not at all. The indignation of being addressed so personally quickly died in light of the fact that, whether he was willing to admit it or not, they had become intimate…on his kitchen floor. That was L's fault too. It didn't seem enough to keep him from using it, the bastard.

"L, what on earth-"

"Just come sit here." The man gestured at the floor between his feet, the first impatient tone entering his voice. Light glanced incredulously between those dark eyes and the carpet they'd presented him with, but the detective never faltered.

What the hell? Light couldn't stand being confused, but the longer he sat here, the more frustrated and confused he became. L's voice came again, another, slightly more sarcastic barb. "I thought you trusted me."

Light had every reason to argue that point. It was well within his right to rip that argument apart, because it wasn't his fault they'd come to this. He could have left, just got up and walked away and that would have been the end of it. The question really…was if he were willing to let it go? He could have trashed the entire thing, and been free. However…L was his best friend…and so he didn't.

He surprised himself by moving, hovering at the edge of his seat and burning L with a look so full of distrust, he was sure the man flinched a bit. He did not retract his hand, however, and after a moment's hesitation, Light toed his shoes off. He came to kneel in the typical Japanese style in front of the detective, his every graceful move marred horribly by the tension painted on his bones. He didn't know what was going to happen, and while the detective in him rose to the challenge easily enough, his common sense told him something was off.

"Take your coat off?" L's voice behind him made him shiver a bit, an uncontrollable reaction that Light hated with every fiber of his being. He couldn't restrain it, and it was not a pleasant sensation. Still, his hand strayed to the two buttons on his suit coat, and he shrugged it off carefully. He felt the fabric brush the jeans that hovered on either side of him, but he himself made no contact, and counted himself talented for it.

Then again, perhaps it was merely the tension again. He gritted his teeth and resumed his perfect posture, palms open atop his thighs, shoulders broad and head held high. He'd been taught this since he was a child, and he was calling on it now to ease his mind.

L picked his coat from the floor and laid it out on the seat beside him, neatly folded. The small consideration was lost on Light, who refused to turn his head to see what the man was doing with his clothes. He hovered uncertainly between the detective's knees, acutely aware of his position, and the one of the man behind him. He hadn't been this close to L since the man pegged him to the floor, or perhaps years before that, when they fought over the detective's lie. The situation called to mind the same tension of their tennis match, in those few paralyzing seconds when L fired the ball at him, grazing skin and reclaiming…whatever they'd been playing for.

With his heart in his ear, Light forced himself to close his eyes and wait.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then lightly, the detective's hand came to rest on his shoulders. Light credited himself for not flinching, but the air froze in his lungs at the contact. This was suddenly a bad idea, a very bad idea, and damn L for talking him into it. It wasn't a matter of trust anymore, because Light just didn't _like_ this.

L hands began to work very slowly, massaging the stone-stiff muscles of his shoulders and neck. The touch was personal, adapting as Light tensed and relaxed under different motions, unknowingly helping the detective figure out what worked and what didn't. He ended up with the pressure stemming from mainly his palms in small circular motions…every now and then he would press with his fingertips to reach a spot of coiled muscle, but Light didn't complain. L's fingers were light, and cool enough to be felt even through the fabric.

Gradually, Light decided to do himself a favor and stop thinking. There was too much going through his head for the massage to accomplish anything. The second a knot released, he would find another idea to force it to tense again. This was L…he felt he could trust L, and the man had said that this was a trust exercise anyway, hadn't he? There wasn't much point in it, however, Light thought. As far as he could tell it served no purpose.

Still, as the hand continued to move, he felt himself begin to relax. With his conscious effort not to dwell on the issue, the touch began to work its magic and the release of tension was astounding. His fingers spread slightly on his legs as his shoulder s dipped forward. A small smile played on his features, and it was very easy to not think anymore. The pressures seemed to push all thoughts from his mind and left him blessedly clear for the first time in days.

With the clarity came the elusive desire to work. For the last few days he'd been so frustrated that he'd accomplished nothing. Granted it was impossible for him to go to work now, when he was stuck in a limo with L and had already wasted his workday. Regardless, the desire was there, a fine tune for him to think on. He had cases to close, and paperwork to fill out, and evidence to pull….

L's hand slipped from his shoulders to the back of his neck and Light hardly blinked. The fingertips returned in tandem, working at the resilient muscles alongside his spine. There was a rhythm in it, and therefore peace, and Light's chin dipped forward slightly at the delicious pressure. His eyes closed, half-smirking, he was sure that if he stopped to think about any of this, he would run screaming. However, he didn't think, and he didn't move, allowing L to do as he pleased.

There was a small pause, and then the slender fingers moved into his hair, stroking over his scalp. Light's brow furrowed in confusion as the detective continued working just behind his ears. Something in the back of his mind told him that L was crossing a line, but it took a moment to find voice to question it. "What are you doing?"

"…Teaching you not to be ashamed of something that you cannot control." Before Light could blink, much less register the smirk in the detective's tone, a hand moved and fisted itself gently into his thick hair, just at the nape of his neck. Light inhaled sharply, a shiver racing through his blood and again betraying him. The grip tugged, gently, and tilted his head back. L's voice remained just beside his ear. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" It was hard, very hard, to focus long enough to force the word through his lips.

"I asked if you trusted me, Light." The detective repeated quietly, holding him captive, but still himself. He seemed to be waiting on an answer, and prompted after a second's silence. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you have to trust me..."

He trusted L. He did, really he did. The sudden shift in mood threw him off so badly however, that light could hardly breathe. The answer eluded him, dancing across his tongue even as his pride clicked his teeth together sharply.

L's hand returned to its earlier motion of scratching, and the soothing circles were apologetic as the hand loosened its grip slightly.

"I do."

The hand tightened instantly, as though afraid to doubt his answer. Light wasn't aware he was speaking until he had stopped, and the words hung before him. Mocking wasn't powerful enough to describe the echoes of that phrase in his chest however, as the grip tightened wonderfully and his breath caught. Possession was evident in the gentle pressure. Light's heart started pounding again.

"I just want to show you," L muttered darkly, as though trying to justify his actions to himself, "…that it is nothing to be ashamed of."

His fingers trailed back down, down, beneath Light's ear, and the gentle touch that had before been soothing made him tilt his head away. L's voice drifted slightly closer, his warm breath trailing the shell an unprotected ear. Light's nails dug into the fabric of his pants. "We never have to speak of this, after…but you need to know that I think no less of you."

The nail on the detective's thumb pressed in, sharp and sweet just below his ear and eased down, leaving a line of fire in its wake. There was a small sound from Light's chest, an unwilling gasp and shiver, but he trusted L. He trusted L.

"If you are ashamed of what you desire, then you will fight yourself until the day you die, Light. You will not be happy in _any_ of your relationships." The detective's voice was quiet, his lips almost brushing the sensitive skin it was so close to. "Don't move."

Light couldn't breathe. This was not what he'd agreed to, no, not at all, but oh god how he kept his silence. He bit his tongue as he waited, unsure of himself, unsure of anything but the fist in his hair holding him still to accept whatever it was that L was doing. The hand shifted him slowly to rest his head against the detective's knee and his throat lay bared. There was a brief hesitation that Light almost didn't catch, but then the gentle fingers came to cover his throat entirely. There were no calluses on those type-smooth fingertips, and they felt like cool silk against his skin. The palm lay over the veins in his throat, and he felt his own heartbeat betraying him as it beat wildly within his chest.

The fingers stroked lightly, toying with the sensitive skin under his chin and petting over his Adam's apple. They soon dipped lower, and before Light could properly open his mouth to protest, the top button of his shirt was left open, his tie loosened and hanging.

"L…" He'd meant to snap, to regain some scrap of his self-control, but the detective merely shushed him. Light shivered anew when the hand slipped beneath the fabric to stroke the bare skin of his collarbone and shoulder. He shied away but found himself with no where to go. The motion only caused the fist in his hair to twist slightly, making his back arch at the gentle pleasure…anymore than this and it would likely hurt, he knew.

However, L did not hurt him.

"Don't be afraid of this." The nails beneath his clothing bit in, leaving faint stripes as they grazed across sensitive flesh. Light felt his own leave half crescents beneath the fabric and though he _tried_, he couldn't keep his teeth together…not with those _nails_, those _fingers_, those…

"…L, wait." He didn't have the strength to bark it, like he'd wanted. Instead, the words fell from his lips with all the weight of his tension, the sparks in his blood, the tightening in his stomach, in a shuddering gasp that was nearer a moan that he dared confess.

L's hand snapped up to cover his mouth. "Don't."

They sat there, like that, forever. The hand slipped from his mouth and L's voice broke the silence again, still centimeters from his ear. "I believe we are done. I should have given you better warning, I think. Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"…I think we're late."

"I think so as well."

"We should go."

Light nodded, but didn't move. The fist remained in his hair, still blessedly sharp and real. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder. The detective allowed it, his dark eyes still wide and quietly screaming. His expression was somewhat darker, though how could not be located.

L searched his face for a moment, releasing the fist to rub the nape of his neck again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No."

"Do you still trust me?"

Light sounded vaguely amused. "Yes."

L pulled back slightly at that, the light of surprise a flicker in the darkness of his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head slightly and his fingers came to cover Light's lips again, a gentle barrier for sound. He closed his eyes and sighed. "You're a dangerous man, Light Yagami."

And before Light could respond to that, L nudged him away. "Come on. Watari will worry that we fight."

XXXX

AN2- And that's about as close as I'll get to smut, darlings. Sorry, but I just...don't need it to tell my story, therefore, I will not. (shrugs) Tasteful, yaoi. I've been teasing poor **Nilahxapiel **ruthlessly about this chapter...Hope it meets her standards, and yours as well! Step Lightly, and Expect more from me soon!

-Kani


	10. Chapter 10

AN- Bah, Work ate me. I have no excuses other than I am seriously considering putting in my two week's notice. My ACT test date is June 14th Ladies and Gentlemen, and I will need every BIT of good will I can get. So you know...think happy thoughts for Kani.

And...enjoy this chapter. I think you will.

XXXX

The rain fell in torrents for three months, and life outside the cover of a roof came to a complete standstill. Tokyo still swarmed with people, its street full of bedraggled pedestrians making their way to and from their various places of work, but a certain quiet settled over the city with the coming of the yearly storms. The subway was crowded, filled with the scent of damp fabrics and cigarettes, and to walk the sidewalk was to arrive wherever one was headed completely drenched. There were few other options at that time of year, however, and the general population adjusted accordingly. It was still a miserable season, but a relatively short one. The daily grind of traffic hardly faltered. The sweeping winds tore through the skyscrapers and made the rain cold and harsh from one moment to the next…but in their wake was the quiet lull of a tropical storm, with the warmth of a summer day clinging pervasively to the edge of its fury.

It was hardly the ideal weather for the bureau to move in, but the idea of an updated headquarters made the employees restless. Much to Takimura's ire, L had sold a small grant of land to the department for its cooperation with his wishes, and while the Bureau had plenty of money, strategic land was hard to come by. It rained constantly as trucks were loaded one by one over the course of a month as various departments changed location. The incessant patter of rain quieted only for a day or two at a time at most, but the move to the new Headquarters was under full sway three weeks after the transaction was complete. They'd moved ten blocks closer to the city heart, which would make for better response time in the immediate area. The various branches that used to reside in smaller buildings throughout the city could now be joined as a single unit in the tall skyscraper. L had purchased the building from another company and it was large and spacious. What he'd been using it for before selling it to them was anyone's guess. Light made a note to weasel that information out of him eventually.

More space meant that he finally got his own private office. Of course, the entire team did, and almost in the same order that they'd shared desks in, but it was the first time since he leapt onto the figurative corporate ladder that he'd had something of his own to defend. He was relishing the idea of forcing Takimura to come to his office to settle their disputes instead of waiting hand and foot on the bastard in his own territory. At the end of the hall, there was still an open floor for those who remained unproven and those who just preferred it. Light himself was only granted his office after a senior officer decided that he was simply too old-fashioned and claustrophobic to work in an enclosed space. With his father at his left and Matsuda at his right, he found the transition went smoother than any one of them had expected, with the flow of communication and information still open despite the walls between them. Also, for the first time, he felt that his desk and its contents were secure. Before, he'd locked his drawers religiously and refused to leave his station until his monitor went black…working with important and often confidential files dictated a certain amount of paranoia, one that an open-floor workspace hadn't satisfied. Now, perhaps, he could walk away mid-report for coffee without forcing a password-protected screensaver onto his system. Whatever security rigs L designed were already far more advanced than the ones that the old headquarters could ever hope to buy, much less maintain. Granted, as a shrewd businessman, L had charged them for this little bonus, but it wasn't something that anyone was willing to refute the necessity of. The increase in security was at once frustrating and soothing, but most employees were taking the added measures in stride because everyone in his department understood that it was a good change, though a bit time consuming. Personally, Light thought the retina scan at the Special Detectives Division was a little much, and intended to tell him that later.

He was beneath his desk, running the wires for his printer, with the steady beat of the weather against the glass of his new window. Mentally, he was cataloguing the changes made in the last few weeks, reflecting over the small errors that had been made and what steps he could take to either fix or better yet, ignore them entirely. He knew that the local branch of the state attorneys had taken up residence two floors below. Overall that was an intelligent choice by the bureau, because it allowed the lawyers easy access to the facts and evidence. Above him were the laboratories, a place where Aizawa would likely be found more often than not. Of all the detectives on L's Provision he was the only one to decline an office when offered. He felt that he dealt more with the forensics and their paper work anyway, so whatever case files he used would have to be carried between the departments. Light was amazed at how he managed to move most of his work station with him…he used to judge the older detectives stress level by the number of pins haphazardly shoved into his afro. He'd shaved lately, so that was no longer an option, but it still was a common sight to see him with a pen in each ear, reading while he stalked the building.

The bundle of wires refused to give way beneath his fingers…Matsuda had decided to be a cheery neighbor and help him pack up. He was sure that, if he were to call the man in to help, Matsuda would simply tug a cord and the knot would unravel as though it had never been there…however, he was too stubborn and likely his current efforts had rendered said trip-cord useless by binding it into an incomprehensible tangle of wires. Light sighed and let his thoughts drift again, hoping that maybe his fingers would solve it faster if he didn't focus on the puzzle so intensely. The top floor of the building was the morgue, ironically enough. In order of ascension, the different departments were hedged into the building with tighter and tighter security. His floor, the Special Detectives, denoted the first of the Federal Bureau floors, and the first of the high-clearance sections. There were five floors after him, all with the same depth of intensity and confidentiality. Rank followed a simple pattern…Detectives, Evidence, Biological Labs, Chemical Labs, and the Morgue itself. The logic was that if anything in the Chemical lab caught fire, the bodies in the Morgue would have been thoroughly examined and all evidence and photos meticulously catalogued, so their loss wouldn't be all that tragic. The DNA testing and all floors that required an undue amount of paperwork were placed below the department most likely to make things explode.

His cell phone was ringing. He sighed and tugged the thing from his pocket, making a mental effort to not sound exasperated when he answered. "Hello?"

"Ah, an actual greeting this time. Light-kun's telephone skills are improving."

Light refused to roll eyes as he returned to his position on the floor and continued threading the USB cable through the clamp beneath his desk. "May I ask what is so important that it warrants a phone call?"

"I am bored."

"Well, that's fascinating L." The detective gritted his teeth as the wire slipped from his fingers.

The bored curiosity in that voice would have been more irritating only if the detective were actually peering over his shoulder. "What is Light-kun doing?"

"Light-kun," Light muttered darkly, "Is wrist deep in computer parts and would like very much to call you back _later_."

"I will not be available _later_, Light-kun." Came the flippant reply, and he could imagine the half-smirk that undoubtedly painted the man's face. There was a slight change in tone and his voice became distorted…likely around a piece of hard candy. "That is why I called you _now_."

"…Sometimes I wonder if you listen to yourself talk."

"Light-kun is implying that I am self-centered." Yes that was definitely hard candy in the detective's cheek…probably a caramel. He liked those.

"I am not."

"It is in your tone."

Why did he know that L liked caramels?

"L, I am _incredibly_ busy at the moment." Light finally worked his goal free and thrust his hands back into the ball of wires. At this point, he was frustrated enough to ask for Matsuda's help, but the detective happened to be gone to lunch. Irony. "Can you not call me back?"

"I just informed Light-kun that I will not be _available_ later. Does he wish to hear my reason for calling or not?"

"I though we established that you were merely bored."

"No, that was merely the first reason that I stated. There is more."

Light knew the detective was drawing the conversation out. His evasive answers only served to make Light dig and grasp at the threads of the talk until he sustained something resembling a cohesive exchange. Right now, with his fingers tangled in the internal workings of the company's Ethernet, he found he hardly had the patience to play cat and mouse with his friend. "Look, you either talk or I'm hanging up. I'm working."

"No need to be rude. I have done something childish, I'm afraid."

Light jammed a cable into its socket with a small twinge of victory. The external hard-drive next to his laptop blinked and whirred to life. It was one piece in place, at least. "And that would be?"

"I have purchased a vehicle."

Vehicle.

"What?" The word effectively cut through his other mental processes and his hands stilled, the computer falling to the corners of his thought, if it remained there at all. "You bought a car?"

"Yes."

"…Why?"

"I was bored. I have already confessed that it was childish, so stifle your cutting witticisms. It is already done."

Light felt his mouth water as a boyish excitement awoke in his chest. He propped himself up on his elbows and waited. The detective was silent, and after a moment, he prompted, "Well?"

"Well what?" The detective was teasing him. That was…almost a good thing in this situation. It boded well at least.

"What _kind_, L?"

"Light-kun is truly not going to scold me?"

"I would if-"

"If it hadn't been a _car_." The smirk was so strong in the detective's voice that Light could see it when he closed his eyes. The irritation of being interrupted didn't really register as the thought of a new shiny something captured his imagination.

"Yes, exactly. So…what kind of car?"

"…A _foreign_ one."

Light opened his mouth and bit his tongue in the space of a breath. He'd been lusting after Watari's Bentley for years now, and still the thought of the smooth black machine made his mouth water, just a little. Riding in it, _driving_ it, would be breathtaking even if Light drove like a normal person. The thought of another foreign vehicle…he felt like Christmas had come early. "And?"

"And, it's _red_."

Red. A red, foreign car. Light gave up on the computer entirely and sat up beneath his desk, almost cracking his head on the keyboard tray. "Really now?"

XXXX

L had bought a new car. Light found himself grinning, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the elevator lights in a sort of daze. Whatever had possessed the detective to spend his money was beyond Light, but it didn't really matter. If L bought a new car, that meant he intended to ride in it. Watari was getting a little older to constantly play the chauffeur and L was trying to convince him to retire. The old man was stubborn, but still, when the weather was bad or cold and his knees began to ache, Light was the second option for the job. Whenever L was in town, and especially when Watari was ailing, Light often found himself behind the wheel. Whenever L assisted on cases, he rode in Light's cruiser to avoid attention…and for the company.

So, if L bought a new car, that meant that, eventually (Soon.)…Light would be driving it.

A red foreign car for him to play with. He never found automobiles relevant enough to study, even as a hobby, but he'd heard things about some of the foreign machines…long, sleek beasts with engines that could reach speeds no one should ever drive at. Ever. Not anyone.

It wasn't until the doors opened much too soon that he realized the elevator had even stopped. He pulled his eyes from the floor numbers and abruptly his grin eased into something colder and false. Teru Mikami stood waiting on the other side of the mechanized gate, and for a moment, neither spoke. He adjusted his glasses frostily, and Light regained himself enough to step aside and allow him room to enter.

The lawyer stepped in and reached across Light's chest to put in his floor number. The small motion was rude, if for no other reason than Light's hand was already rising, and the question lay on his tongue. Both dropped without regret, and Mikami pulled back to straighten his tie.

They were silent for a long moment as floors ticked by.

And damn him, but it was Mikami that broke it. His voice was unfailingly brisk.

"Going to Lunch, Yagami?"

"I'm taking my hour yes." It wouldn't do to have people know that he was really just going down the garage to meet a world famous detective and play in his new car. That just…couldn't happen.

"I see." Mikami replied easily enough, his dark eyes flickering to Light's face for a moment. "And they say that you're so diligent…."

…The implied insult made Light take his gaze from the floor register and watch the man. It was a level stare that usually sent even Matsuda cowering into his paperwork…and to his surprise, Mikami merely smiled and clasped both hands on his case-handle.

"They say a lot about you, Yagami-san. For instance, did you really do an intensive background check on the model Misa Amane? Merely so that Touta-san could date her with a clean conscience?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Ah, I see. What a waste of your supposed talent. It must be surprising, to know that not everyone in the bureau is impressed with you. Your arrogance is also infamous."

"Have I done something that offends you, Teru Mikami?"

The man chuckled, turning cold eyes to him now. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I just thought you should know that L's words hold no sway with me, and you…well…you're nothing but another intern that got lucky. Riding your father's influence."

"…My father had more to do with my career than L, and he himself holds little 'influence' with anyone."

"Oh, so modest? Tell me, Yagami-san, they must be lying about you."

There was a brief moment of silence, and in the end, it was Light that turned the confrontation into a challenge. He turned to face the lawyer and regarded him openly, sizing him as though the simple conversation would become physical at some point in time. Mikami turned his head, peering at him through thin frames with a small smile upon his face.

Light returned his dead stare. "Tell me what you've heard, and I'll tell you what they've lied about."

"…Ah, it's simply a matter of the office gossip." The lawyer appraised him slowly, and Light's expression darkened. "I suppose in the end that I merely wanted to see you for myself."

"And you're basing your opinion of me upon a brief confrontation in an elevator. How stereotypically shallow."

"I'm a lawyer. My first impressions are usually my only impressions." The glasses shifted again on the bridge on his nose. "…And they are rarely wrong."

"Would it be arrogant of me to ask what you think now that you've…_met_ me?" Light's sneer poisoned the close quarters, he was sure of it. Mikami seemed annoyingly unaffected.

"Now, that I've met you? Hmm…." Mikami rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and Light immediately remembered that L was waiting for him fourteen floors down. He…felt better.

The elevators doors slid open, and Mikami chuckled darkly to himself. "To be frank, I'd say that while you are quite pretty, your sense of accomplishment is woefully misplaced. Have a nice day, Yagami-san."

Light's head tilted to the side as he wondered briefly what it would be like to throw Mikami's retreating figure down a flight of stairs.

XXXX

It was red. Oh, it was red, and wholly beautiful. L leaned against the passenger side door, scratching at his calf with a bare foot while Watari waited off to one side. Light was smiling before he ever stepped through the elevator doors, his…discussion with Mikami momentarily forgotten in the bliss of the sight. Both of the other men fixed him with equal expressions, L just shaking his head and Watari stroking his mustache in amusement.

Light didn't care because it was red, and it was _beautiful_.

L stepped forward and Light playfully ducked around him to lean into the open top and stare at the dash board. The convertible was new, so new that the leather shone dully, gleaming even the dim lighting of the garage. L chuckled too as he righted himself again, and stalked the length of the vehicle, glowing.

"I see that it meets your approval."

And in that second, that brief, terrifying second, Light entertained the notion that L had purchased this vehicle for _him_. He shivered, shrugged, and pushed it aside, settling himself in front of the hood impatiently. Watari immediately opened the driver's side and popped it for him. Upon lifting the glistening cover, he stared in wonder at the cleanest, most fascinating engine he'd ever laid eyes upon.

L sidled up to him, watching the expression on his face. "You have no idea what you're looking at."

"No, but it's damn pretty." That simple truth being stated, he shut the hood again, smoothing his palms over the paint. "So…"

L merely quirked an eyebrow at him. "So?"

Light wordlessly held his hand out.

"Light-kun…," L drawled slowly, "Expects to _drive_ my new car?"

There was a tense moment, and Light's eyes narrowed, his grin slipping from boyish to mischievous. "Are you going to tell me no?"

L managed to hold his expression for one terrifying second before being forced to bite his thumb to stifle a grin. Light only chuckled as he slowly rounded the side and eased into the open seat. Leather creaked beneath his weight, and he noticed that, prior to his arrival, the seat had been adjusted to fit his measurements. He smirked through the windshield at the detective. "Never any doubt in your mind."

The corners of his lips curled, and Light internally crowed his victory. Taunting, the detective meandered around to the passenger side and climbed in. He didn't buckle up, which was a damn shame, because Light had honestly wanted to rip the tires up on his way out, but it was a subtle, firm command that they wouldn't be going anywhere. He tried not to look crestfallen when the older man didn't reach for his belt.

Instead, the detective merely dangled the keys between them, shiny and silver over the gear shift.

Just to torture himself, Light hesitated before snatching them. Watari moved to lean on another vehicle, watching the boys play with his cane tucked beneath his hands. Light flashed him a smile before biting his lip and turning the engine over…

"Oh, wow." …And leaning back as the _beast_ beneath that _hood_ rippled to life like a panther purring. He braced an elbow on the window sill and just grinned, cheek on his fist with his legs vibrating slowly behind that powerful force. He eyes wandered the dash with an artist's, or more accurately lover's, detail, taking in every dial and highlighted number. He wrapped his hand around the gear shift, and sighed.

Swallowing his pride, he cast a pleading look at L.

The detective deadpanned. "No."

A pout? Never. A pathetic, whining sort of stare?...Light could do that. Yes, he could.

"No, Light-kun."

"…You stole my gun."

"…You do not play fairly." The detective ceded, irritably staring straight ahead. Again, the insane notion that this was really his car, came back, but he quelled it…he'd already had his arrogance pointed out to him in less than friendly circumstances once that day.

"What is the matter?"

"Hmm? Nothing really." Nothing that smoothing his palms over that crisp steering wheel couldn't fix, at least. God, this car….

"Something is bothering you."

He wouldn't drop it, Light knew from experience. Damn Mikami…he couldn't have annoyed Light more unless he came and clambered into the backseat with them. "I met someone today who honestly dislikes me."

"…It upset you?"

"Disconcerting, really. That's all."

"…You're so vain, Light-kun."

Light chuckled then, smiling at him. Why did hearing it from L make him feel better? "Yeah, I suppose I am."

L appraised him for a moment, studying him carefully. The focus was back, and Light shifted just a bit to find that stare on him with so little warning. The smile on his lips faltered, because the last time he'd seen it, he'd been in a…compromising position to say the least. Had he been younger, he might have blushed furiously, and even despite his self control, a faint heat rose to his cheeks.

L blinked. If he'd noticed the faint color, he'd decided to gloss over it for now. "We must not leave the garage, nor exceed twenty miles an hour while in it."

Light shivered, a pleasant tingle running down his spine. Twenty miles an hour…a lot could be done with twenty miles an hour.

"And none of your heroics. This car has exactly the fifteen miles to here from the airport, Light-kun…it is _that new_." L warned, nibbling at his thumb. "And you _will_ be careful with it."

"Yes, Daddy."

"I will make you mean it if you scratch this beast within the first hour, are we clear?"

Light merely quirked an eyebrow at him. The detective grunted and reached for his belt. After a few moments of glancing around, Light found the window controls and raised them both. A second perusal found the convertible's top control, and he brought that whirring slowly overhead, muttering under his breath in way of explanation, "If I feel the wind in my hair, we're breaking fifty, I can tell you right now."

L said nothing in regard to that.

Light shifted the car into gear, and it barely hitched, the transition also as smooth as a panther crouching. He laughed silently, biting his lip again when he eased off the brake and it moved of its own accord, inching forward. Curious, he applied the brake again and revved the motor.

A steady, pulsing roar, and Light nearly melted in his seat. "Oh, wow."

"You seem pleased."

Light glanced at the man curiously as he eased forward, pulling the engine to ten miles and no further. That was the second time in this brief conversation that L had underhandedly asked him for his approval of the purchase. L usually never questioned his decisions. The fact that he was staring straight ahead while his toes worked the leather bucket seat said that he was concerned with it.

"I love it."

"That is good." And to Light's utter surprise, the detective _relaxed_. Visibly shifted his weight to sit fully in the seat instead of perching upon it, and relaxed. The slope of his shoulders softened, his hands came to rest upon his drawn knees, and the toes stilled. Small, insignificant changes, granted, but they were things Light noticed easily after his years of practice.

He turned a corner and asked carefully, "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"L." Light didn't have to stare at him…his tone served him well enough. They found a ramp, and the younger detective discovered he could stop on a dime if he wanted as they changed floors.

"I have merely been thinking, Light-kun."

And just like that, the cabin of the small car was stifling, unbearably small. As easily as the words left his lips, a tension sprung up between them like a fine wire, held taut only as long as one was unwilling to let it go. It hung there as Light drove, suspended by the silence, and accentuated terribly by the purr of the engine.

If he hadn't meant about the last concert, Light didn't know what else it could have been. Of course, that was extremely arrogant in light of the fact that L had practically had a _child_ run away a handful of weeks ago. Even if that had been his original subject, Light's hesitation to answer had surely put him in mind of the last time the two of them were in a car together. Alone.

Unwatched, and unguarded in every sense of the word.

God, but this man made him paranoid…atheist that he was. His breathing evened out by force of habit even as he ran his tongue over the sharp edge of his teeth behind his lips. The tinted windows put him mind very much of the limo's, dark from the outside and dim within. The lighting was bad enough already, just as it had been in…in the last garage.

When L touched him.

He slowed to a stop, so very aware that L was just at his elbow. Pausing in the middle of the garage lane, he reined in the beast of his memory and the one beneath his hands, and just sat there. The silence hung, stretched heavy and hollow between them, a silent acknowledgement of just how much…how very _much_, had changed.

He turned his chestnut eyes to L's profile and waited, demanding proof of his own nagging suspicions.

It didn't take long.

Slowly, so slowly, like the retreating curl of a leaf, L's shoulders drew up again beneath his stare.

He licked his lips and stated more than asked, "Thinking."

"…Yes." And the furtive glance, a mere twitch of those dark, powerful eyes in his direction was all he needed to know that yes…that was exactly what the detective meant.

His breathing evened out again, slowed into something deeper as he looked away again, eyeing the end of the lane and the wall there. Slowly, so slowly, he eased his foot off of the brake and allowed the car to move a few feet. A second's decision, and it was really more of a thought that translated itself into action as he eased it into an empty space between two other vehicles. The lights dimmed further when presented with the higher walls on both sides of them, and L's breath caught as his hand strayed to the gearshift to put it in park.

They sat there for a moment, the engine still purring quietly under the hood, still wreaking havoc on both sets of nerves. Light leaned back in his seat, forced himself to relax, to be rational before he opened his mouth to speak again. He wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying to begin with and it was better…it was almost better not to broach the subject at all.

"L…."

"Yes?" It was quiet, lower than he'd expected, but it wasn't a tone he hadn't heard before.

"This isn't…some…consolation prize is it?"

"…Do you feel that you've lost something?" L did turn to look at him then, and the dim light had to have been adding to that stare, because really…it wasn't humanly possible to lock the words so tightly in a grown man's throat. It just…couldn't be.

"I think…we both did."

"Do you? I rather think that we've merely…realigned."

"Into what?" Light asked simply, honestly.

The detective opened his mouth, and snapped it shut, turning to press his lips to his knee. Light pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "L…how long are you going to run from this conversation?"

"…Until your expression stops begging me to, I suppose."

Light frowned, turning in his seat to better face the detective. "L…listen…."

"Perhaps," L turned to look at him again, and it was Light's turn to tense, "I do not wish to _listen_, Light."

And, oh god.

Oh god.

His heart fell to pieces, beating evenly, harshly in his ears, because that was not…that wasn't…that _couldn't_ be what L meant. No. It wasn't possible.

He couldn't imagine his own expression, dimly aware of the fact that his lips hung slightly parted and his eyes were wide. Heat crept its way across his cheeks, and Light pulled inward, just a little bit, away from the man at his side. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

Because L was smirking at him, watching his every twitch, and Light felt that stare all the way to his toes. This was not the concert, when he'd unknowingly trapped Light in this perilous situation, blind and deaf to the event. This was not the tennis match, when both were in their element and fighting a battle for control, with a winner, and a loser. No, these lines weren't as pretty as that. They weren't even as distinct as the episode in his floor when both were half-drunk with exhaustion and relying on sheer, second-by-second, blow-by-blow instinct to guide them. This wasn't even comparable to the…to the limo, and L had actually put his _hands_ on him then.

No, this was something entirely different. This was something challenging, a threat, a boast, an invitation, and an _attack_. It took the last threads of balance they had in this strange little game and wrapped them around Light's throat.

An entirely different brand of tension began to snake its fingers up his spine, ghostly, invasive, and rooted in those level eyes. It curled through his stomach, painted itself along his bones until his teeth worried at his lips for lack of a better function…he couldn't _speak_…that seemed blasphemous after…after this.

Whatever the hell this was.

There was a time for this…and a place.

It wasn't here…it wasn't now, but this was when…he wanted. Want…that was a good term for the tension that tore him two directions, pressing him against the window when the detective sat a mere two feet from him, waiting inexorably for a response of some kind.

His hand fisted on the steering wheel, white knuckled as the tiny tremors of the still turning engine moved through his legs and stomach. Slowly, so slowly, he dropped those eyes, and muttered words that didn't register until they were spoken.

"Perhaps listening is overrated."

L's feet eased to the ground. "Perhaps talking is as well."

Oh god. Oh _god_, he was trapped there. It used to help, to look away. It used to be some form of relief, to pull away and out of that gaze like this, but no, there was nothing here. He stared at the small emblem on the center of the staring wheel while L uncurled himself, his hand almost shaking on the crisp leather against his palm.

Silence…the silence would be the death of him. Nothing but the purr, and the sound of his own breathing, his heavy, uneven, frantic intake of breath that surely betrayed him.

He waited what seemed an eternity, but no matter how long it took L to move, it would always be too fast. Light managed not to flinch as the detective's hand rose, inch by inch, as though waiting to be batted away. Surely, the Light that climbed into the limo with him the first night would back in his office by now, hiding for the sake of his sanity, but that Light wasn't…real, anymore. There was only the man he was now, the one that didn't move when that hand reached for him, ghosted inches from the fevered skin of his cheek to hesitate above his hair.

It was a small motion, without contact, as L trailed his open palm from the crown of his rich hair down in an empty pet to the nape of his neck. Light's chin fell, his eyes closed and he felt a tremor race his spine, but when L finally did touch him, it rocked through his blood as nothing before ever had. It was a small thing, a lacing of those slender fingers into his hair, clenching lightly and tilting his head back, back. He went easily, unsure of himself, or even if he could manage the next inhale.

The grip shifted just slightly, and cool fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and rested there. He waited, waited, and they tightened, holding him in earnest now, and L turned his head to look in his direction, fingertips sharp in the hot skin.

Light opened his eyes.

L's head leaned against the plush headrest, watching him with the evasive smile still painting his lips as he searched the other's expression. He found nothing but compliance, much as Light hated to confess it, and it seemed encouragement enough, because the hand returned to his hair then.

Fisted sharply, made him stiffen, his air coming shallow to his lungs as pleasure closed his eyes again.

He didn't mean to speak. "What have you done to me?"

"I just like it better when you look at me, Light."

His eyes opened again, and the tilt of L's head became something slightly more feral. His smirk deepened, his other hand coming up while his eyes watched the younger detective like something wild he'd cornered. Light tensed, pulled away, but the possessive grip in his hair tightened, and he allowed it, leaning slightly towards the detective now. His entire body hummed when that hand ghosted fingers down his left cheek and on, to skim the sensitive skin of his throat. Twice, he'd trusted the detective with something so intimate, and the skim of cool fingertips over his frantic pulse was intoxicating, smooth and hardly there.

They tilted his chin up slightly, a thumb straying towards his lips…

And then the detective closed his eyes.

"You…should be getting back to work. We can have this…discussion elsewhere, when you have no prior obligations."

The hands left him, slowly, reluctantly trailing over his shoulder as he leaned into his own seat for support and stared at the man across from him, wondering what had happened to the paranoid, frightened boy they'd both known only years ago.

"I should."

"…I do not want you to."

"I need to."

"No…." L's eyes strayed to the dashboard, sweeping over the frame. "Come for a ride with me. We can take it up the mountain, to the park that you're so fond of."

"…And then?"

L's eyes returned to his briefly before falling away again. His knees slowly drew up from the floor as he released whatever hold he'd had in favor of self-control. "I do not know."

Light glanced away, licking his lips. He brought his eyes back, his words careful. "What do you _want_ to do?"

L merely rested his head upon his knees and drew a deep breath.

"Talking is overrated. Roll the windows down."

XXXX

AN- Ah my poor boys. What have I done to you?

Anyone else think that was a horrible tease? I mean really, hands in the air. -raises hand- I am guilty!

Step Lightly and Good Night.


	11. Chapter 11

AN- Hello and Welcome back!

It was the longest elevator ride he'd ever taken. The small confines seemed tiny, ready to crush him into nothing before those oblivious doors would ever open to allow him escape. He wasn't claustrophobic…merely irritated, and bored. The smallest spans of time stretched into eternities when he was forced to wait while his mind was running at its top speed.

Damn Takimura.

Three years, he told himself, a mere three years until the man was gone and a more respectable gentleman stepped up to the post…likely Mogi or himself. Mogi was, Light thought as the numbers dragged on, a man that he wouldn't mind working for. He was intelligent and quiet, but diligent and commanding enough to gain the respect of the other detectives. Mogi, he knew, wouldn't blink when Light asked to work a case alone, or took an extra file or two while the weekly line-up was on the table. As it were, Light had to hunt for his extra cases because Takimura wouldn't allow him to carry them. He usually found them on Matsuda's desk, because the young officer couldn't say no to save his life.

Mogi could lead the department…giving, of course, that Light didn't land the title himself.

Because Light could certainly do Takimura's job…and his own, on the side. His father assured him that such an undertaking would 'burn him out', just like it would any young officer in the department. However, it wasn't as though Light didn't have a mind to burn. He knew that he could do both jobs…and if he ever did 'burn out', he would be still performing at the level of any average detective at their _prime_. He was more than capable of dealing orders and watching the others' workload…he did it almost out of habit at this point anyway. It wasn't like Takimura hadn't been noising his upcoming retirement around the office for the last two years. All he'd done was boast about how he would groom them into the finest organization in the world before he left, so that whomever stepped up to take his place would find the task half-done for the rest of their career.

Light, at least, would listen to his subordinates.

Working a case alone, in Light's opinion, was a fairly simple request. It meant that he would handle all of the details, oversee the lab work, take care of the fine print and polish before presenting his case to the court and turning it over to a prosecuting attorney. In fact, if Light had his way about it, he would even make that man's job easier, because he'd been sketching through a new set of forms that practically laid the evidence out in such a manner that the lawyer could read it like a set of speech cards. This and that happened, reference exhibits A and B, and that would be the end of it. It was simplistic, perfect for the inventive attorney to create a compelling case from, and all without ever having to discuss it with the detective more than once. In Light's opinion, the Prosecution Department spent entirely too much time briefing detectives on cases when they could both be somewhere else, advancing another case and solidifying the ones in their hands. Working this case alone was his only request for the week, and only the second in the month. He hadn't been pestering the man, refused to be bothered with his babbling and incoherent rants, and thus had avoided him rather well. The best day to catch Takimura on was the one where he and Light hadn't seen, nor spoken to one another _at all_. They operated on a need-to-know basis, Light was working this case, and Takimura expected these papers by a certain date. It was quiet, frosty, and _peaceful_.

One case alone, he'd asked…and instead, Takimura had decided to implement _his_ new plan and its reports….

…The one where the attorney handling the court-side of the deal would be present and briefed on each advance within the case itself. Not only would Light be working under an intensified set of deadlines, he'd also be dealing with a complete stranger before and after _every_ move he made while working the case over.

Light worked high profile cases for the most part. He was charming, with a wolfish cruel streak that kept the media in its place and his suspects in the palm of his 'protective' hands. He got the job done, saving egos and reputations where necessary, and ripping them to shreds when the evidence allowed him to do so. So far over the course of his career, he'd saved upwards of four billion dollars in private affairs and put close to six hundred violent criminals in federal prisons. If he'd ever lost one, it was due to mishaps of the court-handlers, the lawyers, and none of his doing. His name was respected in the Federal Building, to say the least.

So Takimura would, of course, not only force him to carry what amounted to a legal partner on one of his biggest murder cases, but also make sure that it was someone that didn't like him.

This was the exact reason he was currently standing in an infuriatingly slow elevator, on his way to bring no other than one _Teru Mikami_… up to his office.

To say that he wasn't exactly thrilled would be the grandest understatement of his life.

He was to the point of considering his various options for revenge -such as replacing all of the old man's regular staples with the brightly colored variety that Matsuda used- when the doors finally slid open. Light had never visited the Prosecution Department before, but this didn't stop him from setting out from the elevator like he knew exactly where he was going. With any luck, the floor was arranged in a fashion similar to his, and he knew that Mikami ranked high enough to have his own office, as well. His clearance level allowed him through the coded main door, and from there to the open area he'd expected to find. It was arranged in the exact layout that the detectives' were; only with a substantially larger amount of paper on each desk. The two departments normally didn't deal with each other while cases were in progress, though he understood that this was the place that all of his lovely warrants came from. These were the people that made his calls for him, woke judges at strange and rude hours in the morning to grant him access to forbidden places, such as the hearts of major organizations and the darkest corners of civilian homes.

He raised a few eyebrows as he strode through the desks, but supposed that the gold badge at his chest was enough to warrant that. These people introduced themselves with business cards, not gold plates bearing the national crest and imprinted with the Prime Minister's signature. Light cursed himself inwardly…he rarely ever wore his badge upon his coat, but of course he would be the one day that he ventured into foreign territory. He could hear a faint whisper behind him, someone who thought they were being stealthy and were actually failing horribly at it.

"…_bastard Yagami that keeps…"_…And they were out of range, but he assumed it was the poor man that he sent running every time he picked up the phone and put in a call to this floor. Light was very specific about the type of warrants that he requested, and in hindsight, it was probably very difficult to attain such things from irritated men at three in the morning. Annoyed as he was, Light merely sent a scathing glance over his shoulder to alert whoever it was that he'd been caught at his gossip and continued towards the narrow hall at the other end of the floor.

His plan was to walk in a straight line, until he either passed a door with Mikami's name on it, or reached the Director's office at the end of the hall. It was the largest room on all the floors, and as far as he knew, all the Heads-of-Affairs had claimed it as their office and left their best workers the smaller ones lining the walls next to it. Fortunately for him, the lawyers had a slightly more open plan that involved artistic glass-front offices instead of the opaque walls his work required. He stumbled upon Mikami's open office door and nameplate just as he was bracing himself to barge through the Director's door and demand his whereabouts.

It gave him pause to see him in his own territory.

In truth… it resembled Light's office, with the necessary added paperwork. Organized chaos restrained to a six by eight, glass-front office. Mikami's coat lay across one of the chairs in front of his desk, with two folders on top of it. His tie was loose and his cuffs rolled, though his long hair was bound neatly away from his face. He appeared to be comparing a hardcopy file to the information on his screen while simultaneously draining the mug of coffee in his hand. Light suddenly loathed to break such concentration, despite his dislike for the man behind the desk. When Mikami artfully reached overhead and behind himself to his bookcase and grabbed a half-full, private carafe of coffee and refreshed his cup without looking away from his file, Light felt a sparkle of something that could have been respect in the corners of his mind. He quelled it immediately upon remembering his reason for being here in the first place. Mikami was tolerable when he was absorbed in his work…and when he wasn't; he was a pompous ass that grated on Light's every nerve until he contemplated things violent and socially unacceptable.

Having mentally insulted the man to his satisfaction, he cleared his throat to break the trance the lawyer had put himself in.

The way his head turned, but his eyes lingered on his screen until the last second was infuriatingly familiar.

…But Light absolutely refused to compare this man to L.

Refused.

Thin eyebrows rose in surprise when they finally made eye contact. "Yagami?"

"Mikami." Light nodded a greeting. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, but we're due to discuss the Tozaku case today."

Mikami frowned, glancing back at the work in front of him. "Yes, but that isn't until two this afternoon. It is only eleven."

"We were not scheduled to meet until two, but unless I do my job, there isn't a case for you to prosecute." Light crossed his arms. "…And I move a lot faster than the others in my department. It's best that we work on my schedule, if we're to be successful partners."

"You do realize that I'm the best in my department as well, don't you?" Mikami, pulled his glasses off and peered at Light through narrowed eyes. "…And the fact that we don't like each other is hardly a secret. If we work entirely on your schedule, our turnover rate will not only be unheard of, but our case-guarantee would ensure that we'd be stuck together for the rest of our careers, and frankly…"

Here, he leaned back in his seat. "I don't think I could _tolerate_ you for that long."

"Then I suppose you need to get your priorities in order, because I will not wait for you. You either come to the case when I call you, or I work without you and you can play catch up if you manage to catch me while I'm in the building." Light returned smoothly. "And considering the fact that most of my cases require an ungodly confidentiality agreement, the necessary paperwork will be locked in my office every night before I leave. If you're not in a boardroom with me and my laptop or sitting at my desk with me, you will have no information whatsoever on the case and its progression…and that's final. Considering the fact that we both have weekly reports due to our superiors now, it's in your best interest to work when I do or you'll be writing them from memory."

Mikami breathed an exasperated laugh, gesturing at his papers. "You're really about to make me get up and leave this, aren't you? You do know that I've only lost two cases in the entirety of my career?"

"Yes. I myself have only 'lost' three, and those were due to mistakes in your department, and not mine. In fact, I believe you handle most of my cases anyway, because of the nature of my work."

Light pointedly glanced at the clock before continuing, "…So in reality, my track record is better than yours…and yes, I'm telling you to save your file and come with me. We have evidence to go over."

Mikami stared at the file for a moment, running a hand over his face. He restrained a sigh that had Light smirking in triumph before donning his glasses again. "…Fine."

"I'll be escorting you to and from the boardroom on my floor."

"Why not to your office?" Mikami wondered aloud, minimizing windows on his screen. "I'm more productive when the things I require are within my immediate reach."

"I'm just picking you up, Mikami…I'm not taking you home. There are things in my office that you don't need 'within your immediate reach'."

The lawyer narrowed his eyes again and sneered at his screen. "Oh yes, because you handle such important cases…have you forgotten that you fax me copies of it all before the court-date?"

"I _fax_ you…" Light drawled, leaning on the doorframe. "…Exactly what you need to put my catch away, and nothing more."

"Ah yes, because the gun at your hip makes you instantly more powerful than I will ever be." Mikami rolled his eyes and finally stood, closing the manila folder. "_Do_ put me in my place, Yagami."

Light smirked at that, reaching forward to maneuver the man's coat from beneath the pile of papers it was trapped by. "Are you done here?"

"Yes, yes…" Mikami waved him off, tucking papers into a drawer now. "Lead the way, bastard."

Light, rather than take offense at this, merely kept one step ahead of the lawyer all the way back to the elevator, making it apparent that he had just 'fetched' the most influential man in the office and had him at his heels. That would surely spread gossip, but Mikami seemed as unaffected by the talk as Light himself were. It was an underhanded insult, he knew, but such was his specialty. While he didn't particularly like or sympathize with the common man, he did know how to use him.

Light allowed the lawyer to enter the elevator first, and waved off his attempt to use his own keycard to activate it. Mikami's clearance level wasn't enough to get him to the break-point, much less past it. He used his own and heard the other man sigh through his nose irritably.

He didn't bother to clarify his actions.

"Might I inquire as to what you have stumbled upon in your work that is so immensely important that you must call me away early like this?"

Light cut his eyes at him, smirking again. "I'm not allowed to discuss the case until we're in the boardroom."

"Of course." Mikami chuckled. "How ignorant of me."

"Hmm." Light agreed as the elevator eased to a stop between floors. Pulling his keycard out again, he brushed it across the small black bar directly above the number plate.

Mikami's eyes narrowed as a panel in the wall level with Light's shoulder popped open and a small disk detached itself from the space within. Light pulled the eye scanner up and peered into the center, where a blinking light greeted him from a small indention.

"…You've got to be kidding me."

Light let the technology speak for itself. The red light blinked a few times while the scan was completed, and then turned green. On the information panel, his name and clearance level appeared briefly before they were logged into the system's data bank.

"We work with a higher level of security than you do. You're laptop will have to undergo a system scan when we reach to my floor…it's a brief hard-drive sweep, nothing overtly harmful to your operating system," Light explained quietly while the small box began to move again. "It takes about three minutes, and then we can move onto the floor and from there to my office, to get my own computer. After that, we're headed directly down the hallway to the meeting room on the left of the Director's office. You're not to leave my side, nor peer too closely at any desk that we pass. Do not enter an office without the owner present, and never without their express permission."

Light looked over his incredulous expression and uncharacteristically disheveled clothes. "And for God's sake, try to look like you know what you're doing."

Mikami's lips pressed into a thin line as he swept past Light to the table in the antechamber. Two windows, paneled with bullet-proof and heat resistant glass, looked out onto the main floor of the Special Detective's work area, and it seemed to be the only glass to be found. Light rounded the table as Mikami set his briefcase on the steel tabletop and pulled at his tie. The pinched expression on his face as he peered at the men rushing across the room never faltered, even when Light opened his case without permission and retracted his computer from within.

The lawyer glanced at him irritably as the startup chime sounded, but said nothing. Light pulled the USB cable from the security panel next to the windows and plugged it in, initiating the scan.

After a moment, Mikami's frown deepened, and he reached to unroll his shirt sleeves. His fingers deftly worked the buttons, and Light tried not to smile. So he'd succeeded in making the man feel inadequate enough to primp before entering his territory…never mind that it was common for a man in his department to mistakenly wear the same shirt two days in a row when worked hard, and would hardly blink at the lawyer's attire. He counted it a victory.

Then Mikami happened to glance at his computer's screen.

Light hadn't known the man could move so quickly. "What is it doing?! It's installing something! What is it?!"

His eyebrows arched in amusement, he found a decided relish at delivering his next blow. "It's a government-crafted Trojan Horse…a virus."

Apparently, the tips of Mikami's ears turned red when he was thoroughly infuriated. "What?"

"I said it's a _virus_."

"Why…" Mikami snatched his glasses off and pointed at the screen, something close to a snarl on his features, "…is it installing a _virus_?"

"It's temporary. It's taking note of what's currently on your system and what isn't. If any information designated as classified appears on your computer within the next two weeks, the virus will use the building's WiFi to email a transcript of the system's activities to the Head of Operations. After that, it's going to freeze your CPU until you either receive a clearance code that allows you to disable the virus…," Light paused, shrugging indifferently, "Or until you're placed under arrest."

Mikami drew himself up, pushing his bangs out of his eyes as he took a deep breath. His hands shook slightly. "And how are we to work together on these cases if I'm not allowed to even turn my computer _on_ in your department?"

"…Very, very carefully." Light closed the program out and unplugged the laptop. "I'll have to have my superiors give you an access code that allows the free movement of information."

"Count on the detectives to complicate matters."

"And trust the lawyers to whine about it." Light muttered under his breath as he keyed the door and stepped through. Mikami shrugged into his coat and gathered his things.

"It's going to be hell working with you on a regular basis, Yagami." The dark haired man continued quietly as he followed him down the row of desks. "It's hard to enough to deal with your presence in the mere building…if we end up sharing desks, I may just have to kill you."

XXXX

Watari was trying desperately not to fall asleep. Light had to smile as his old head nodded forward on his shoulders for perhaps the fourth time since they began this particular round of chess. His steely blue eyes were rimmed with red and the wrinkles of age, and though he tried valiantly to stifle them, his mustache trembled often with quiet yawns. His hands remained folded upon his chest as he regarded the black and white board with the same fond smile Light had often seen cast in L's direction when the detective wasn't looking.

At the moment, Light was not only losing, he was losing _terribly_…to a man more than twice his age that was dosing off while he laboriously considered his next few moves. Had it been anyone else, he told himself, he'd have been mortified to have lost so horribly, but the way Watari lovingly played his game salvaged some of his pride. L himself was more than awake; he was downright twitchy watching the exchange between the two. Late after the concert, Light was entertaining with fresh coffee and a few hours of chess. It had been an impulsive decision, and he really wasn't sure what he intended to do with the pair of them after all was said and done. The three were considerably more relaxed after the show, and it'd seemed like a good idea while standing in the limo door. Having L willingly follow him up to his apartment was strange, however, even with the older gentleman trailing along.

L couldn't stand watching the game.

"Light-kun should make his move now." He muttered irritably, his toes working the fabric of the chair as he eyed the board like a cookie he was being denied. Light, devoid of his tux coat in the comfort of his own home, leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. L glanced once between him and the chess pieces, a thumb at his lips while his other hand toyed with Light's discarded tie on the table. While both of them were in perfect functioning order, Light still found it irritating that he wasn't in the least concerned with his older companion. How did L expect the man to drive when he could hardly see straight?

Watari seemed unruffled, however. "L, I am not so sure I'm up to another game, even if I do win."

"There is only-" L began and Light interrupted smoothly.

"…An eighteen point three percent chance that I will regain the board and win, yes we know, L. You quoted the statistics hardly a minute ago."

L's lips pursed, and he pressed them to his knee to hide the telltale pout. Things were quiet for a moment as Light rocked a captured piece beneath his fingers and pondered his options. Truth be told, he didn't have many, but again….Watari was one of the few men he didn't mind losing to.

He reached forward and nudged his queen over a space.

L perked slightly, then grimaced, but a sharp look from both of the other men had him retreating to the circle of his knees again, his rebuke left unspoken. Light merely reached and pulled his tie out of the detective's hands, relieving him of his one fidgeting apparatus.

If he wanted, Light thought, he could have guessed the exact moment L's toes began to twitch once it was gone. Sipping his coffee, he glanced up to find that he'd been caught eyeing the detective's feet. Instead of letting his usual habit take over, L narrowed his eyes and chose to whine quietly.

"It is hot in this apartment."

"No, it isn't L. Shush." Watari rebuked while he adjusted his glasses and took stock of the game again.

"It is at least seventy five in here. Light-kun keeps his apartment too warm."

"It's just the coffee."

"It is not."

"L, let the man concentrate!" Light bit off, eyeing the dark-haired man over his nearly empty coffee mug. "If you can't be quiet, go refill my coffee."

The way L cut his eyes at Light told him just how scandalous the idea really was to the man. Watari just chuckled quietly and returned his attention to the board. Light and L engaged themselves in a small staring match until, out of curiosity, Light happened to glance at his toes again.

They immediately stopped moving once caught, and L bit his lip in frustration. "At this point I do not care who wins…just as long as I am allowed to play next."

The current two players ignored this entirely. L only lasted another minute or so before he had to interrupt again. "I believe I know which-"

"Don't you _dare_," Light growled across the table. He'd learned during his first game that L couldn't simply sit to the side and not participate…and it wasn't that Light couldn't handle a person guessing the next move. His younger sister used to do it all the time. L just had an annoying habit of guessing _correctly_, something that was infinitely more infuriating than a stumbling suggestion from a weaker player.

L bit his tongue at the interruption, his eyes narrowed in Light's direction. It was a harmless expression, because both knew that tonight they were as likely to honestly bicker as they to throw Watari down the stairs. The music was just still too thick in their blood for any real malice to have room. Still, Light had to admit that L was beginning to irritate him, just a little. He supposed it was the long history he shared with the older gentleman that had him behaving so childishly, but apparently Light didn't share Watari's patience for it.

Quite suddenly, L stood up and stalked around the small table. Light watched his progress as he passed behind Watari and stepped down into the living area.

When he disappeared around the corner without a word, Light sat up in his chair and called. "Where are you going?"

A noncommittal grunt was his only reply.

"Check," Watari drawled sleepily, and Light drew his eyes from the archway to his living room to realize that his king was indeed in danger. He choked on a sigh and reviewed the board again, eyes sweeping the black and white expanse in hope of an escape.

A small breeze tickled the back of his neck, then grew into a draft as the air conditioning vent above and behind him rumbled to life. The audacity of it ruined his concentration. "L, turn it off."

He got no response. Setting his cup down, he reached and moved a piece without any further consideration. Perhaps he'd just signed the game away, but he was prepared to lose anyway, and that was _enough_ from the detective.

"You forgot call the Check, son." Watari chastised gently, but Light was already slipping past him to the hallway, oblivious to his sudden luck. The fact that L had likely seen his opportunity before leaving the table wouldn't have helped his mood any. It was not the first time that L had come into his home and changed the thermostat, but he was not sick in bed this time and wouldn't abide the rudeness. He rounded the corner and spied L by the bathroom door, squinting at the small thumb dial that determined the temperature.

He wasn't sure why he lowered his voice, but he was quiet when he slipped an arm between the detective and his precious thermostat to hiss, "What do you think you're _doing_?"

"I am fixing it. It is hot in here."

"No, no it _isn't_. It's perfectly fine." Light shot back as he pushed the tab from 'Cool' to the 'Off' position with a _click_.

L narrowed his eyes and flipped the switch again. "I beg to differ."

"Leave it _alone_." _Click_.

The detective stood there regarding him for a moment, but Light held his place, one hand securely holding the little tab in the 'Off' position. He drew himself up straight, trying to use his slightly better posture to his advantage, but L's expression said that he wasn't amused or intimidated.

"Light-kun," Watari called through a deep yawn, "Check. It is your turn again."

They both looked in the direction of the dining room, and Light shifted to go finish his chess game, if for no other reason than to let the man get some rest. However, a hand appeared in the center of his chest and pushed him back against the wall.

"What are you-"

"I give him twenty minutes before he retires to your couch." L muttered, still eyeing the square of light from spilling from the dining room's doorway to the carpet. "Perhaps we can even talk him into napping in your room, if you'll allow it. Better that he rests."

Light's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"So we can _talk_." A smirk curled the detective's lips at the word, and Light's heart gave a most unpleasant stammer at the sight. His breath caught in his lungs, he just stared blankly while his thoughts slowly picked up of their own accord, running away. Very suddenly, he recognized that smile, from the limo, and the car, and hell, even his floor. Usually that expression was accompanied by the detective's fist in his hair, or at the very least required Light to be in some form of….

He took a deep breath to rein his thoughts in, and L's eyes came to bear on him, smug expression still firm. Light's escape was fast falling asleep every second longer that he stood there, but he was currently engaged in another battle to keep the tension from his shoulders.

L glanced at his chest, where his hand remained splayed across Light's tux shirt, and more importantly, his heartbeat. "Something wrong?"

Irrevocably betrayed, Light felt the tips of his ears begin to burn and fought to keep an unexpected flush from his cheeks. He sought freedom by staring down the hall himself, willing, nearly begging Watari to wake and call him back with his sheer strength of will. His voice stuck in his throat, forcing him to attempt the question twice. "You…want to have that discussion _here_?"

"Why not?" L tilted his head to the side, lowering his voice. "…We can always go back to the limo, if you'd prefer to continue it there…."

Away, far away and right now. _Now_. Light chuckled and refused to acknowledge the fact that he sounded slightly breathless. He glanced at L only once, and realized the mistake he'd made. Only a shift or two, and this could be just as compromising as any of the other situations. It'd happened just as quickly, and as much as it galled him to admit it, his protests hadn't exactly improved. Hell, had he even said anything yet? Furthermore, why was he already imagining where this was headed? Outrageous.

"…I need to go finish the game." He glared down toward the dining room, blithely aware of the darkness to his left and that the small tab was digging painfully into his fingertip. He tried to relax, licking the edge of his teeth as he willed himself to calm down…but then L's eyes shifted, just slightly lower, and he felt the weight of his stare along his open collar. The detective's palm hovered over his pounding heart, still pressing him firmly against the wall and trapping him in place.

"Light, we need to talk. He is already asleep, I know it." The hand shifted, and Light jumped, cursing himself, and then cursing the detective as it slipped up over the wing of his collar to his throat. The feel of skin upon his caused something in his mind to snap, shut down and die quietly while the detective's fingers moved across the hollow of his throat to grip his jaw and turn it. He waited until the last second to meet the detective's eyes, breathing quietly as he let him in again. The dark coals burned even in the unlit hallway, again using the shadow to grab him, break him open without effort.

L's other hand came slowly to grip his wrist and pull it away from the small box on the wall, and Light suddenly found his voice, though his control over it was dubious at best. "We can't leave him at the table."

"You're running out of excuses." L muttered, his thumb stroking over the inside of Light's wrist lightly. It was a tiny motion, one that might not have even been intentional, but his wrists were sensitive, and it made his blood hum quietly in his veins.

Light pushed then, though whether he was testing himself or the detective he didn't know. He leaned away, to the side, as though to leave him there in the hall.

The response was unexpectedly satisfying.

L's expression, ever blank and dispassionate, finally narrowed into something close to irritation. Light had perhaps a second to acknowledge it before he was pegged to the wall completely. The grip at his chin tightened and turned him away, leaving his ear and a great deal of his throat exposed. He'd wanted to look away, but when forced, the position left much to be desired. L hovered mere centimeters apart, until Light felt the heat of his chest so near his own that he was amazed they weren't touching. He didn't even manage to gasp before L's annoyed whisper appeared at his ear, his breath hot and sharp, forcing sheer lightning down the length of Light's spine. "You _claim_ you don't understand what's happening here, but you certainly know when to pull and when to shove, Light."

And there it was, the whirlwind sensation he'd felt creeping through his chest when L pinned him at gunpoint upon his floor. It went beyond excitement, leaving him quietly staring because heaven forbid that L _stop_, at this point. Ever since that first encounter, it hadn't been about L _stopping_…in fact even then it had been debatable. He supposed that it didn't matter, because while he was clueless, L seemed to have a good idea of what he was doing, and if following his lead meant that delicious tension curling its way through his lower stomach continued, then yes…maybe Light could play along.

Light brought his hands to the detective's shoulders, useless when that _voice_ was so close, but necessary to prove to himself later that he was entirely insane. "L, don't."

And then holy _God_, L's mouth…just in the hollow beneath his ear, the detective's lips hovered and then descended. Conscious thought ceased when a flicker of damp heat graced his skin, just a brief, fleeting touch of tongue that made Light want to curl in on himself in pin-pointed pleasure. The detective pulled back, and Light remembered that he had to breathe, air skittering into his chest. That was something he he'd been prepared for, not in the least. Words fell from his lips as his illusion of daring shattered, offset by a talented counterstroke from his opponent.

"L…L, wait, I-" And L _bit_ him then, nearly driving Light up on his toes as the detective's teeth closed gently upon the curve of his shoulder, demanding his silence. Just a graze of canine, a threat, and the darker things in his chest screamed yes, _yes_ that's what he wanted. He wanted to _lose_. His back arched, sound dead his in throat as he struggled to keep his composure when L's lips moved back up to his ear to place another open kiss against the skin there.

Another nip of teeth had him gasping. "L!"

The lithe frame he'd glimpsed beneath damp fabric pressed against his roughly, hips pressing him back and shorting his thoughts out even further. There wasn't enough air, not nearly enough, and L muttered a path of teeth and tongue down his throat, "Tell me what you like, Light."

"I don't- Ah!" Another sharp graze of canine was a shot of whiskey to his heartbeat, pure fire forcing his hips to shift against his captor's. He felt the detective shudder and then the exquisite attack on his common sense resumed with a cold fury.

It was not violent, only unrelenting. While Light's body made demands, L's mouth was methodical, his touch designed to draw each response and learn from it, every twitch and catch in Light's breathing tucked away for later use. It was not that he was overwhelmed, caught in a heady urgency to finish the task out, but that he was trapped, and forced to experience it in increments, learning along with the detective just what it was that drove him insane. The occasional nip of teeth, the silken touch of his tongue, the heat of his breath upon abused skin…soon the wall was supporting him almost as much as the detective himself, small sounds he stifled to maintain appearances tumbling freely past his lips when L's mouth struck _just_ like that.

L's hand turned his chin back, and he went, dazed by his own compliance when every nerve in his body screamed that he was close, so _close_ and that Light couldn't…

L kissed him.

Kissed him, fucking _kissed_ him, pressing their lips together and coaxing his open, and it was a quiet upheaval of Light's sanity when he finally allowed them to part. L held him there, long fingers tight and unyielding while he dipped inside and took everything. It was possessive, dark and heady, and he hadn't realized he'd been waiting for it until the longing slapped him upon fulfillment. L's tongue traced the curve of his lips, skimming along the edge of his teeth as his own so often did, hot and invasive, and real. A hesitant touch from Light as he went to retreat brought him back, his thumb pulling the younger detective's mouth open a little further, leaving him a little more vulnerable. It was slow, and quiet, and intoxicating to have a first kiss so thorough and contemplative.

Then Light woke up enough to respond. It was a realization that he did have some control in this, and his share of experience. Taunting the detective, he skimmed his nails lightly down the lean shoulder blades, feeling the fabric catch beneath them. Through the haze of arousal, he felt L pull back slightly, and followed him, nibbling at his lower lip in reproach. L returned to the kiss, and that was enough for…

A knee slipped between his.

Without warning, L pulled his hips forward. The exquisite pressure across his groin convinced him that yes, yes maybe he could play the submissive for a little longer. It left him dizzy, compliant when L pulled away again and trailed back to pant in his ear.

"I really did intend to have an honest discussion."

"This…" Light gave up, resting his head against the wall. Tried again, "…This wasn't my fault."

L buried himself in the curve of Light's throat, hands resting at his hips. After a moment of petting and the sound of their hearts slowing somewhat, he muttered, "I feel I should try to justify that, but I haven't the words."

"Just shut up."

"I'm thinking actually."

"About?"

"Whether or not your wrists are as sensitive as your throat…."

Light's tension probably betrayed him, but the detective's hand left his hip and he said nothing when the slender fingers gripped his arm. L lifted his head, and his hooded expression made Light shift. Just the thought of L's mouth in the same position as his thumb sent a shiver down his spine.

He wasn't prepared for the spark of disappointment he felt when L let him go. Slowly, the detective eased back, the power of his stare marred by the slightly unfocused cast to his expression. Light felt a small smirk appear on his lips to know he had that effect on the detective. L merely frowned, a thumb coming to his mouth.

Much to his chagrin, Light's eyes followed it, and his smirk faded. "We should slow down."

"We should stop altogether," L muttered lightly, "This is…extremely dangerous."

"It doesn't seem to be waiting for our permission." Light came off the wall then, adjusting his collar. The detective's eyes followed the motion carefully, almost a touch in and of itself.

"Don't bother."

Light turned to the dining room again, intent on fetching the old man out of that chair and getting him to the couch at least. "L, we have to move him."

A hand at his elbow turned him, and really….L had the most delightful way of shutting him up.

For a while, at least.

AN- There, I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it.

This Chapter is actually half of the next one, but I looked up this morning around Five A.M. and realized that I'd hit twenty six pages...so yes, shortened. It kept the pattern of the last few, which is annoying, but with this out of the way, I can focus more on the plot that stems from it. Muahaha. Fear.

In personal news, I have quit my job, so my stories are temporarily back on their old schedule. Happy Fourth to everyone who celebrates it, and expect the second half of this soon. It just needs some polish.

Here's some pictures of the theatre where this story begins! (I spaced before the 'dot org' and 'dot com' in these addresses.)

The Lobby- www.asmp .org/images/arch/CannonCenterLobby.jpg

And This is the site, with a slide show of portraits, including one from the landing where they first met, and out front, where the limo was parked, and you'll have to excuse my nerdiness...This is where Of Music was born. (Seventh picture in this slideshow is a view from their seat in the left balcony!)

www.thecannoncenter .com/facility3.php

Step Lightly!

Mikanis


	12. Chapter 12

AN- Oh, this chapter annoyed me. This is the second half of the last one, obviously, and you wouldn't believe the trouble it's given me! First it was too large to upload, so I had to cut it in half, and then in the copy/paste process, I lost almost four pages worth of that scene. FOUR PAGES! Which isn't much, but it's pretty aggravating when you have to re-type it all, know? It almost never comes out the same way.

So here's the END of the kiss, revised against mah will. Rawr.

And that's also why it's so short. But...it's a second update, so I'll hope you'll forgive me. Also this requires more polish than I currently have the braincells for, so bear with me. I'll get to it tomorrow.

XXXX

He'd changed his shirt, made coffee, and escorted an ailing old man to his bed before he'd come to this point, and he still wasn't prepared for it. There was a silence in his apartment that had never existed before. Even with the classical music playing in the living room, one of the _piano concerto_ CDs his family had bought him years ago, there was a silence that overpowered every urge to speak. The music seemed hushed, set aside from the void that hovered between the two of them, stretched across his small table as delicately as a spider's web.

The silence seemed to breathe in reality, embodied in the quiet shift of air that was the occasional sigh. L, once again curled in his chair, stared at the chess board as though the answers they sought lay within its depths, and Light was content to stare at nothing. Focusing on the air in his line of sight allowed everything else to blur, and if he tried hard enough, he couldn't see the furtive glances L was casting in his direction. Thoughts ranging from the eccentric to the morose crossed his mind, each turned over and cast aside in turn, some as complex as a complete retelling of their relationship, and some as simple as the fact that the button L tore from his shirt still resided in his pant's pocket. He was glad he hadn't lost it. This, all of this, was easier than stating the truth, and thus forcing themselves to live by it.

This relationship could not happen. Arguing about it, as L so blithely put it some half hour ago, was like playing chess with a single color. There was only one solution, and there was little they could do to change it.

Perhaps he'd hurt L's feelings when he called it a mistake during that conversation, but the distance in the detective's eyes said all that it needed to. He'd been right, he'd known he was right, and even if his words weren't exactly choice, they were the truth. This was stupidly dangerous…_had been_ stupidly dangerous, he corrected himself, because they wouldn't do this again. That at least, he could promise himself, because as L so candidly reminded him, his life was also on the line. Every second they spent in each other's presence was a second that they could be found together in, should anyone take the time to look.

Someone was already looking, he reminded himself.

So despite L's reluctance to leave, it was safer if they took their time apart in stride. L hadn't expected a relationship…and when it'd gotten to a point where he did, he'd trusted Light to come to his senses and put a stop to it. The more Light lingered on that particular section of L's little speech, the more infuriated he became.

Trust L to make this his fault.

Anger interrupted the quiet stasis he'd achieved since they fell silent almost…well, a while ago, so he refused to acknowledge it. In the corner of his mind he realized that he was doing the exact same thing, and the hypocrisy of it all made him want to break something. It was merely a defensive gesture, he told himself. Until he'd met the detective, he'd never had this problem, and because L was just as much at fault as he was, it made sense that they'd have to work through the issue together. That might have been the worst part of it, in his opinion. They both handled this sort of problem in the same manner…by ignoring it, or running away entirely.

So, with both set to run, to turn tail and forget that it ever happened, they found themselves brought up short by the notion of ending their friendship. The taut wire stretched between them suddenly grew unbearably tight. Yes, the logic said it was all well and good, safer, more reliable if they stopped getting close and confined it back to its original laws…perhaps four times a year, for concerts and coffee…plus whatever time was required at the office. That was simple, that was reliable.

That…was suddenly a lot less than it was six months ago.

Hence the mistake in growing so close to begin with, L had said, muttering wryly into his coffee cup, and those were the last words uttered before the silence came and crushed them.

Light had one friend. His one and only friend was sitting next to him at his dining room table right now, and both were trying valiantly to wrap their minds around ending the relationship altogether. It was a thought process very similar to the one that he'd had when L had left him the first time, trapped inside his own mind for months without the equal company he'd grown accustomed to. It had seemed a logical course of action, to end a tedious friendship early on, to save himself some trouble, and to think that L himself hadn't considered it at some point was…idiocy. Ironically, something that once came as naturally as breathing to the two geniuses suddenly did not apply when placed directly between them.

It was hard to throw stones at a person he was handcuffed to.

Blame had no place in this argument, but again, it was an instinctive reaction on both of their behalves. It belittled the issue, molded it into something simpler, and more manageable, than it could ever be in reality. With the music in the background and L at his right, he chose instead to revisit the concert he'd left only hours ago.

There'd be no relief from this one…no, he'd fucked that up the second he'd decided to play along with the detective and see how things turned out. He had nothing to show for it except a lovely bruise on his collarbone and a slight ache from the attention to his throat. It wasn't…_almost_ wasn't worth it.

He tried to tell himself he was blowing this out of proportion, that something as harmless as a kiss…well, more like a few….

If L noticed the color upon his features, he had enough common sense to keep his mouth shut. The tension that only an hour ago seemed to be a banked fire in the back of his mind instead curled there like a sleeping cat now, temporarily satiated by their bit of fun. In fact, aside from L's occasional glance in his direction, Light almost felt normal again. It was the first time in almost a year that he felt he wasn't ignoring something. L's expression said much the same, leaving him to wonder just how they'd gotten to this point in the first place. They'd tried to ignore it, but it seemed the second one made up his mind, the other faltered in his decision.

Light didn't believe in love, but he was starting to get a little nervous.

Tension of a sexual nature, he could understand, and had decided to leave it at that for now. He'd had countless relationships in the past that stemmed from that alone, with nothing more to hold them together. This was the first time in his long romantic history that he'd had sexual tension spring up in a pre-established relationship, and definitely the first time with another man. Count on L to be his exception to everything. The exception to the very laws of his life, it seemed.

He wasn't helping his case any…nor was he easing the headache that was slowly creeping its way between his temples. He felt more than watched L pick his mug up and drain it off. It was an excuse to move, and so he did in the silence between piano tracks, plucking the detective's empty cup from his fingers and moving around the table to refill it. Moonlight Sonata, or something like it, began playing the in other room. It was a testament to his state of mind that he couldn't even place the piece of music he was listening to, as an established classical connoisseur. He sighed and focused on the coffee.

It was mindless, simple. He had penchant for finding simplistic things to fill his hands with when the corners of his mind were working beyond his control. He didn't pay attention to how much sugar he put in L's cup, but knew that L was likely too far gone to notice anyway. As he stirred, he glanced back at the table to find L's eyes on him. At least, directed at him, he wasn't really sure exactly where the detective's eyes were focused. They hovered somewhere around his midriff, but Light got the feeling that he was more alone right now than not.

An eternity or moment later, the spoon was no longer grinding sugar crystal against the ceramic, and he had to give up his small escape. As he returned to the table, he happened to glance at the clock above the detective's head. Three in morning agreed with him, it seemed, because for the first time since they'd returned to the table, he felt compelled to break the silence. "We're not accomplishing much, are we?"

The detective never blinked, just listed his head to the side slightly. Light began to worry he hadn't been heard until L nodded and took the proffered cup. He seemed to come back to himself as he carefully sipped the hot liquid. "I'm not sure why we're wasting our time."

"Because our decided conclusion was to 'do nothing' about the problem and it goes against our every ingrained rationale?"

"Hmm," L nodded, taking another sip. "…A part of me wishes to board the next international flight out of the country and not return for a few months."

"I'd kill for the opportunity." Light muttered, nursing his hot cup in both hands while the piano hummed quietly beneath the conversation.

L sipped again, eyes still on the ceiling. "…A part of me wishes to drag you to the couch and continue my more recent endeavor."

"You assume I'd let you." Light remarked, again, not quite acknowledged, and not quite ignored either.

"And honestly," Here L pulled his eyes from the plaster above and brought them to bear on his companion. "…Honestly, what I want to do more than anything right now is work."

Light chuckled, hazarding his first sip. He let the coffee hover on his tongue for a moment while the detective regarded him openly for the first time since pulling away in the hall at Light's insistence. The thought made the tender skin beneath his ear twinge. "You're welcome to use my computer, if you feel you'll get anything accomplished."

"I don't think you realize the full portent of that sentiment, Light."

Light raised a questioning eyebrow and L took a breath before elaborating. "I have become more than jaded in my position. You remind me that it's worth the effort."

It was the most blatant compliment that L had ever given him, and yet Light wasn't sure he understood it at all. Rather than question it, he merely nodded, too unsure of his words to bother attempting thanks.

Still…

"…Still, that leaves us here, sipping coffee in the few hours before I have to go to work and you have to return to your hotel and do the same."

"I believe that I could remain here, sipping coffee and listening to piano with you, and consider it time well spent. What do you think?"

"…Sounds like a good way to start the morning."

"Hmm." L mumbled, resting his chin dejectedly on his knees and staring into space again. One slender hand lifted his cup in salute. "Here's to doing absolutely nothing about our internal conflicts."

"And to Watari snoring. Cheers."

XXXX

Light eased out of his car and winced at the sunlight. It was the kind of summer day that he often adored, a day that was reserved for water fights with his father and sister when he was a child, or more recently, an impromptu baseball game with Matsuda. It was bright, and warm, but not stifling, and there was a breeze just high enough to be cooling as it swept between buildings. He took a moment to enjoy the day before he disappeared into the cavern of the NPA building for another eight hours behind a desk or possibly driving around the more unpleasant parts of the city.

Despite himself, his sour thoughts killed the moment's glory before he ever made it to the elevator.

Four hours ago, the taste of coffee had been pleasant at best. It was warm on his tongue, slightly bitter and rich as chocolate in the early morning hours when normal thought was impossible. They'd passed the time just as they'd planned, staring into the future as it slowly ticked by without their consent or any word of solace. It wasn't until Light's alarm went off in the bedroom, and Watari, startled from sleep, bashed it into the wall with his walking cane that either of them moved or really acknowledged each other's presence again. He made a mental note to buy a cheap radio-alarm on his way home, and that the next time he allowed Watari to fall asleep in his apartment, to make sure all impromptu weapons were out of the older man's reach.

The coffee that resided in his hands now was as bitter as the aftertaste of aluminum foil and cardboard. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he was working on his ninth consecutive cup in the past twelve hours, but forcing himself to swallow it was like the next sip of water after downing a gallon in one go. He could have sworn he felt the coffee sloshing in his stomach.

Then again, perhaps he was just adjusting to the idea of working a long day without any sleep to speak of. Really, the company had been pleasant –and here a shiver went irritably unacknowledged-, but as he was stepping out of his shower and really and truly thinking about the coming day, he berated his stupidity. His ability to function while tired wasn't abominable, but it certainly wasn't something he enjoyed doing. While the concert had done wonders for his tension, its positive effects wouldn't begin to show until he was fully rested again.

The café cup in his hand was annoying. The feel of the shirt fabric rubbing against his skin, and more pointedly his collarbone, was annoying. The eye-scan in the elevator was annoying.

…And as though summoned by the god themselves, who would be the first to greet him outside the door?

One Touta Matsuda...furthermore, a very distraught Touta Matsuda who was gesturing him in before he'd even keyed the main door and made it into the department. It didn't bode well for the rest of the day, to say the least, and he braced himself as he shouldered the door open and lifted his damn coffee in greeting.

"Light-kun, where have you been?!"

That was not a question he wanted to hear. As the other detective drew closer, Light could see the tell-tale signs of another detective pulling a double shift. The redness in his eyes, the limber grace of a body that was struggling through every move it made, the usual clumsiness of Matsuda's personality marring said grace horribly as he half-stumbled across the floor...all of it terribly familiar. The fact that he was wearing the same tie merely clenched the horrific fact into place. Matsuda hadn't been home since the last time that Light had seen him, on his way out of the office to his concert. That meant that not only had he missed something, he'd missed something _important_.

Well, la dee fucking da.

"I left my cell phone on my desk yesterday." That was a lie, but he was too irritated to explain why he'd turned his phone off the night before, so he ran with the instinctive untruth. "Left early, remember? What's going on?"

Matsuda then proceeded to reach his side, take his coat and his briefcase in one arm, and use the other to _drag_ Light across the room. With the first trickles of apprehension appearing in his stomach, Light looked around to realize that the majority of the floor was empty, and people were crowding out of the boardroom next to Takimura's office.

Oh god, he was _not_ in the mood for this.

"Matsuda! What's going on?!"

"We've been trying to call you all night, something weird is going on." Matsuda rushed him past his office, tossing his belonging inside his door as he briefed him. "Last night around midnight, we had five criminals drop dead in the maximum security prison on the southern isle. All five had heart-attacks within five minutes of the initial death. The toxicology report came back _clean_."

"Clean? How is that possible?"

"It gets better." Matsuda paused, eyeing the men down the hall. "Listen, before you go in there and they start throwing shit at you….this is important."

"Why would they-"

"All five convicts were your cases."

Shock cleared away the last vestiges of his exhaustion like coffee never would. He blinked numbly for a moment before trying and failing to speak. His convicts? His criminals? All of them? That went beyond freakish accident and into foul play, and he didn't even have the details yet. He needed names, he needed _reports_. There was a cold feeling in his chest when the detective leaning out of the door glanced down the hall and met his eyes. He knew before he ever turned back to call into the room that this was going to work against him, if Takimura had anything to do with it.

He met Matsuda's eyes, slightly more lucid, and nodded. "Talk."

"Heart-attacks, no apparent cause, all healthy men without any previous history of heart disease in the family…and two of them were freakishly young to have heart attacks anyway."

"Young?'

"Jutsuiko. Remember him?"

"He busted your lip on that chase….that was hardly six months ago."

"He was only twenty three. Solitary confinement, no chance of parole, found dead in his cell. He was the first, and then the rest just dropped like flies."

"So what? Poisoned at the prison?"

Matsuda was eyeing the crowd warily now. "Would have shown up in the Tox, wouldn't it? No, we have no clue what's going on, but…it reminds me of a certain car accident."

Light pulled back at that, because he'd helped with the research on that himself. Matsuda had been seeing Amane Misa off and on ever since. "Matsuda, that can't be-"

"I don't want to think about it." He held his hands up. "I really don't. So you think about it for me and tell me if I have any reason to be concerned."

There was a pause and a mutter of voices down the hall, and then Light's father appeared in the boardroom door, pushing past other officers. There were lines on his face that told Light even _he'd_ been here while he'd been sitting at home sipping coffee. His knuckles whitened on his paper cup even as he knocked it back again for another long swallow. Suddenly, he knew that while he didn't need it right this second, there were long hours in his future and more of them than he'd anticipated.

The older officer took a minute to take in the tense look on his son's face before addressing Matsuda. "I'm assuming you filled him in."

"Almost everything."

Soichiro nodded, glancing over his shoulder. The men were watching the three of them avidly now, and it was obvious that he'd been sent to 'fetch' his son. The exhaustion came hounding back through his mind for just a second, a taut wave of oblivion that made him dizzy. He'd been looking forward to quiet work today, trying to catch up on his papers and his fine-print reports. Instead, he'd just been blindsided with the most important case of his career.

La dee _fucking_ da. It was easy to be angry, and it would likely sustain him better than any other emotion he could conjure from the depths of his soul today.

"Light, calm down." His father would normally have clasped him on the shoulder in encouragement, but he knew his son well enough to know that physical contact at this point would only make matters worse.

Matsuda, of course, was oblivious to tact when he'd gone without sleep. "Yeah, don't go in there angry, because Takimura is just waiting to piss you off."

"I figured."

"He's delegated all of your current cases to other officers, and while you are on the taskforce assigned to this case, you're not to do anything without strict moderation. They're saying it's a personal interest conflict, and they can't let you have free reign if you're involved somehow."

"That's….extremely annoying, but it makes sense."

The elevator dinged from across the room and the three of them turned to see an extremely annoyed Aizawa and an equally morose Teru step from the small box. Aizawa seemed to be ignoring the lawyer's frantic questions while he resolutely plugged the man's laptop into the system scan for the second time in as many days.

Light was less than thrilled. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"That…was the next little bombshell." Matsuda hedged quietly, scratching at his ear self-consciously. "Apparently, that's the lawyer that presided over three of the victim's trials. Takimura deemed it necessary to bring him in for consultation, and interrogation, eventually…for now, though, he's gonna try to play it nice by sticking him on the Taskforce with you."

"Of course he is."

The warning in his father's tone was undeniably well-intended, but did little to help the situation. "Light, don't pick a fight with him this early on. You're under twice the scrutiny he is, so it's in your best interest to lie low."

"Kind of hard to lie low when my boss is trying to martyr me." Light resisted the urge to run a hand through his own hair, and instead straightened his tie. He trusted Matsuda to watch over his briefcase, but he was not about to appear before the entire department with a single thread out of place. He took a moment to shrug into his suit coat while Aizawa came down the hall, and was tugging at his sleeves when they reached the little party in the hall.

The 'lab technician' badge around Aizawa's throat seemed out of place against his three piece suit. Usually it was more common to see the man in a polo shirt and khakis running between floors whenever necessary…he'd even put in an application to have the eye-scan limitation removed from his badge because he was in and out of the elevators so often during the course of his workday. Today, however, it was a silk tie and blue collar, just another sign that literally _everyone_ but Light himself had gotten the call. Teru probably hadn't even been at work long enough to damage his attire.

…And it had taken Light two tries to button his shirt properly this morning, he'd been so tired.

L would not hear the end of this, the bastard.

"Morning boys." Aizawa greeted, obnoxious lawyer in tow.

"Aizawa, Teru…" Light nodded to each, and the lawyer merely adjusted his glasses in response, eyes narrowed and tight-lipped.

Finally, Light turned to the boardroom and braced himself. Mogi and Ide were waiting for him now, hovering unobtrusively in the corner where they could be seen. It seemed in that moment that these men were the only men in the department that he could trust to support him in this…even Teru, if only because his head was also on the butcher's block.

Five men dead in the course of five minutes.

It seemed he finally had a case L would be jealous of.


	13. Chapter 13

AN- Hello everyone! If anyone is still here...

Please excuse my inexcusably long hiatus. I have Final exams next week and then a month of NOTHING, and I intend to get caught up in my fics during the break. Culinary courses are a little more demanding than your average maths and sciences, so please bear with me, and Thank you all, so much, for the words of support I've gotten over the last few months!

Here's the next chapter and there's more to come over the next month or so!

....I feel like I should do one of those dramatic "Previously, in Of Music...." Shpiels.

Oo Whateva. Kani's back.

Step lightly.

XXXX

Light had lost track of how long he'd been sitting at the steel table before him. His body protested every motion it made, starved of sleep, and he shifted through every physical process as though it were the last. It seemed as though even moving from one sitting position to another, crossing and uncrossing his legs, was taxing to his mental function. His mind was racing five miles ahead of his current thought…every new idea came to him in a flood of information, not the coldly calculated data he used to interpret. It was harder to filter the chaos that his hypersensitive observation skills absorbed on a regular basis. He blamed the music, he blamed the lack of sleep, and he blamed L.

If he'd just come home alone, as usual, he'd have been in top condition walking into this problem…but really, if he were honest, the challenge of merely staying focused was a pleasantly unexpected change of pace.

The room itself was small, and didn't offer much for him look at. The interrogation chamber was perhaps nine by twelve feet, large enough for a man of his size to comfortably pace while he awaited his attorney and the officers that would lead the questioning. Light's pride said that he had a touch too much class to pace like an animal, or worse, a guilty murderer, and he stayed unmoving in his seat. Upon one wall was the customary one-way mirror and the sight of himself offered nothing but irritation. Light was a person of meticulous grooming, and he could see the exhaustion in his face, as plainly as though it were brightly colored mask. Other than the reflective wall, and the smooth steel table and chairs, the room was bare. It was designed to intimidate, to use the emptiness and silence to batter a man's guilt into the foreground of his mind.

It'd only been a matter of hours, and the case was taking a decided turn against him. Perhaps he'd underestimated just how arrogant he truly was in dealing with his peers, because there were quite a few faces on Takimura's side of the floor, and some of them he hadn't been expecting. Aizawa, Mogi, Ide…men that he'd worked with for years, and a few others that he'd favored if not liked, stood stoically between the others and the two men who were enraged by the mere suggestion that Light was involved…his father, and Touta Matsuda. His coworkers were one thing, but Matsuda had truly surprised him. He could hardly carry on a conversation without raising his voice, and Light had heard him pass the interrogation chamber's door several times, ranting to Takimura about the case, or to his father about Takimura. He wasn't known for being overtly professional when it came down the black and white of things, but he and Light had been rookies together. He was the closest thing Light had to a 'partner' in the department, aside from his father, or L. His father was higher ranking, however, with slight variations in responsibility, and no matter how close he and L became, Light doubted the man would ever give up his global network to stay in Japan. Matsuda's fanaticism was working against him in some ways, because Light himself had yet to even speak to the Director, and the detective was railing in his ear about Light's innocence….it promised to have him on a short fuse when he finally _did_ get around to Light's statement.

His father had exchanged words as well, but he warranted a bit more respect from the men on the floor, because he'd outlasted the majority of the officers that entered the department. He fathered the homicide department as though the entire organization was merely an extended visit of distant family, a Christmas or wedding gathering that had never gotten around to dispersing. Soichiro's cases were renowned, because he was intelligent, and methodical, and ethical to an extreme. There was a system, process, and order to right and wrong, and Light could only dare to imagine that his father's influence groomed him into the man that he was….He couldn't imagine surviving with a mind like his unless there were certain methods of coping to adopt, and Light's chosen was order. Even L exhibited the slight obsessive-compulsive tendencies of his genius, through his desire for control and detail. He stacked his sugar cubes, for Christ's sake, just so that he felt he owned them before blurring them into nothing in his tea or coffee.

There was no evidence. It was nearing the twenty four hour mark since the news broke, and the entire floor was baffled. There was _nothing_. No DNA or chemical tags, no forced entry or discrepancy in the security protocols, the men had just _fallen_ _down_ in their cells and not gotten back up. The autopsy report revealed nothing, and the bodies were likely undergoing their fourth or fifth dissection since they arrived at ten that morning, packed in ice like fish for the market. A sudden hush had come over the floor when the elevator paused for security clearance and then moved on, merely passing their offices on the way to the morgue, and it was a silence for a dead man's passage. It made five trips, and the weight of the situation had never been more oppressive. Never before had a case rendered the department so dazed, so quickly. Five men down, all convicted criminals in the care and control of the government, and the _government_ had nothing to show for their deaths but the only common link they could find.

Light and the lawyer that hated him, Teru Mikami.

It was harrowing, to be the focus of such scrutiny and to be at a complete loss for his self-defense. What could he tell them? How could he justify these deaths, and prove his own innocence, when he had no idea how it could have happened and would likely never get to see the bodies himself? Takimura was old, and mental, but he was not stupid and he was running the department into the ground like he had in his glory days, iron-fisted and irritable….and Takimura thought that Light was involved.

That left Light staring at his own reflection, while the world around him buzzed like a stirred nest of bees, and the greatest case of his career came to a complete standstill with him in the very center of it all. He looked at that mirror, for the first time seeing himself, and the scowl on his features was…not reassuring. It took some effort to relax his features, but with his mind in so many places, even the act of calming down was a refreshing change of pace, a place and function to focus on.

Could he murder?

…The thought made him pause. He peered at himself with interest, tilting his head to side and sizing himself up using the techniques L and experience had given him to work with. He was attractive, no mistake or exaggeration, and he was arrogant. He'd been told by no few number of people that he was frightening when pressed upon to perform, cold and distant on any given day and then steely and direct when he wanted something. He had a temper, a short-fuse that L loved to dance upon because he was a different beast when he was angry. Fine. So he was an ass. That didn't make him a killer.

That was the surface, however, and he'd paused for a reason. There was something, something about himself that he knew had made him ask the question, and now that the thought was in his head, it wouldn't leave him alone. Could he murder? Could he take a life, and if so, what would drive him to do it?

He liked control. Better to start with the basics and work his way inward. He was orderly, and demanding, as any genius tended to be. He was coldly calculating and…no, that wasn't the term he was looking for. Detached. He was detached.

Light narrowed his caramel eyes at himself, brow furrowing over the hand he hid his mouth behind as he assessed his personality from an objective standpoint. He was the most uncaring man in the world when it came to day-to-day trivialities. There were hardly words to describe the myriad of things that held his interest and the rest that merely annoyed him. He'd often remarked to himself that he hated a lot of things…felt they were beneath him, or a waste of his time. His arrogance was renowned, and he couldn't imagine being any other way. When it came to people, it took years for him to develop a rapport with a person…He was still distant with Matsuda, and they'd worked together for years. Light was not a happy, carefree sort of man, and worse…no, worse even than that was the fact that he was distant with his family. He cared, yes, but he knew, on some level or other, that he could walk away from them if he needed to.

Needed to. What did that say about his character? He was idealist…not many people knew that. Of course there was the associative good will to his name for being a detective, fighting for justice and all that rubbish, but really, he didn't give a damn about justice itself. It was the people that drove him to the work he did. He felt that everyone deserved a right to live as they chose, to benefit society and world as a whole, and that some people….didn't. Once they'd sinned against those other, innocent people, criminals in his opinion lost their right to the life that those innocent people lead. A murderer lost his right to the life that his victim might have had. Why should a child molester have the freedom to live in his world, with free will and happiness, when he snatched that away from a child with years of life ahead of them for the sake of a moment's pleasure? No, he didn't give a damn about justice, only right and wrong, the black and white that people seemed so capable of blending into moral gray areas where _justice_ couldn't reach. A woman stole medicine from a pharmacy to aid her dying child….she was still a thief, in his opinion. It was harsh, perhaps, but that his view of it. He put himself in a position to work cases where he never had to deal with those kinds of situations, because he knew that his view would be challenged by anyone with a good and decent heart.

Light was not a decent man. Not really.

He, much like L, didn't do this to uphold any law, but merely so that he wouldn't be bored and he could _do_ something to the scum that made the lives of others miserable without facing consequences for his _own_ actions. It was perhaps the worst reason possible for a man to become an officer of the law, but it was the truth, and he would not apologize for it. In light of that…yes, he could kill a man, if he felt the need.

Of course he could.

There was something else, there, the hook wasn't quite out yet, and he'd been sitting at this goddamned table for the last six hours, another wouldn't hurt…what was it? Would he enjoy it?

No. No, and that was honest, and it was a breath of relief. He could murder a man, but he would not enjoy doing it, except perhaps in the most extreme of circumstances….and he considered that normal, because any man might enjoy hurting a criminal that had destroyed his happiness…or perhaps that of his children.

He was judgmental, he knew that much. It was sad, how quickly he weighed and discarded people as though they were tools. He lied, he was a good liar, and only attributed part of that talent to his pretty face. Light could read people, knew how to push and prod and get what he wanted or get away…what else?

The criminals…he was glad they were dead.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at himself, but he was. He was sorry they died perhaps, because they were making his life hell, but he was not sorry that they were dead. They had been scheduled to live life in prison or die at some point in the near future anyway, why did they matter? What did it matter to anyone that they were gone?

He really wasn't a decent man. Truly, all spoken, he wasn't a decent man at all, and that particular line of thought was one that he would keeping to himself for the duration of forever, or else he'd never see his office again. Even mentioning thoughts such as those got an officer into a psychological evaluation because they couldn't be trusted. That was simply the policy, and Light agreed with it to an extent. _He_ knew that he wasn't going to go crazy and start hunting down suspects, but he couldn't say the same of the average man…Light could handle a unique amount of pressure, and derived pleasure from doing so. However, he knew his limits.

And he was approaching one, quickly, the one that determined his civility when Takimura finally made time for him.

He heard footsteps pass the door again, and none retreating down the hall, so he assumed that someone was in the observation room now, likely watching him. He betrayed nothing, but it was a thorn, a splinter in the smooth fold of his thoughts to know that they were there, and ignoring him still, after locking him in here hours ago. They might as well have put him in a cell and been done with it. He supposed that his status allowed him this one small luxury…he was not cuffed to the chair, nor the table. He was still in his suit, with his wallet, phone, watch, note pad, pocket comb, and a small tin of breath mints in his possession.

There was nothing, not for a long moment, and then the door slammed outside, and two sets of footsteps moved away again. Light never moved, staring blankly at the mirror and bracing his chin in his hand, smirking behind the cover of his fingers. So, they'd been looking for a show. That worked to adva-

Matsuda appeared in the glass. Light's eyes widened, and he picked his head up, staring through the window. The other detective had one hand to the side, and his image became clearer as he turned the lights up in the other room, until they were equal to the ones in the interrogation chamber itself, and Light could see him clearly. His lips were pursed, his brow drawn and tight, and he was…worried?

His face said angry, but the secondary body language said fear as Light read him briefly. What did he have to be worried about?

The dark eyes left his for a moment, glancing pointedly toward the door, then his hand came up.

Thumb and pinky extended, held alongside his head…then forefinger and thumb, pressed to the glass….a flash of his wrist, the back, his watch, and three flashes of five fingers….

Call L, fifteen minutes.

The lights went down again and Light stared numbly at his own reflection. That was…risky, but the two men leaving…that had to have been Takimura. Whatever Matsuda had said to make him angry enough to leave had to have cost him. The man was stupid enough to get suspended in Light's defense, or worse, to implicate himself in the case to force Takimura to re-evaluate-

The Light's came up again, and Matsuda gave him an impatient wave, eyeing the door.

Light shook his head to clear it, pulling his phone out and flicking the small screen open…

-Only to completely blank on the numbers he'd memorized. He stared at the small number pad, then glanced up the mirror, the lights once again dark. It took a deep breath, but then, _yes_, he'd scribbled them down and hidden them in his _watch_, hadn't he?

He popped the secret compartment open, and pulled the scrap from within, fingers moving the second the codes began to come back to him. It rang once, twice.

"Ja?"

"Light. I need him."

"I beg your pardon?" It was in English. Light made the adjustment.

"Watari, I need L. Now."

"Sorry, my boy, my ears were still hearing German. One moment."

One moment turned into four, and he was tense now, tenser than he'd been since arriving at the station that morning, waiting on L to pick up the phone. What did that say about his priorities? Finally, the line picked up again. "Yes?"

"Turn the voice off, it's me. I'm in trouble."

There was a click, and the electronic voice-over died, leaving the dull tones of L's true words behind. "I know."

"Have they contacted you yet?"

"L? Not directly…Takimura doesn't want me involved. He's pitching to Eraldo Coil right now, and Danueve declined due to morality conflicts."

"…He'll get to you eventually."

"I know. Does Light-kun wish me to decline?"

"Would you?"

"Likely not. Five men dead in less than a minute each…I'm quite intrigued by this one. What have they done with you?"

"I'm under observation right now, confined to an interrogation chamber." That wasn't really what L had asked, and Light lowered his voice, dropping his eyes from the mirror to the table, because he wasn't sure if Matsuda had the mike on or not, "I'm holding up. Where are you?"

"Thirty four thousand feet over the Pacific, headed to New York."

"I want to see your jet one day."

"…You're tired."

"I am."

"…How long do you have?"

"About another six minutes…how much are they offering Coil?"

"A quarter of a million to pick the case up, five if he can solve it. Your worth is not being underestimated, I assure you."

"...Would you take the money?"

"I'd be of more use to you as Coil than as L."

"You'd take it."

"Yes."

"…You're a bastard."

"I am."

There was a moment of silence, but Light felt better now than he had since…well, since he and the detective parted ways in the parking lot. It amused him. He smiled to himself, forcing the gears of his mind to move, just move, because he had to think right now, and not about L the man, but the detective, and his resources. "…I would like a second laptop, and access to your system for a while, if that's possible."

"Mmh." L made a sound of agreement, and Light heard the distinctive sound of a candy wrapper unfolding in the background. "Takimura likely will refuse to let you work the case publicly, due to the decided conflict of interest."

"I know. There are some names that I want to dig into, starting out."

"Is there anything I could-"

"Don't fish. You can work it alongside me if you want."

"…Fair enough, I suppose."

"…I really wish you wouldn't eat while you're on the phone."

"I am not."

"That's a caramel. In your cheek. I can _hear_ it."

"….That is uncanny, and unfair. Do not project your discomfort onto me because you are jealous that I'm still a free man, you criminal."

"…L, that was not even remotely funny."

"No, I suppose it wasn't. I do try." There was a pause, and then L spoke again over the faint sound of typing on his end of the line. "_Did_ you do it?"

"You know where I was last night."

"In intimate detail. However, a man of your caliber…" L trailed off suggestively and irritated as Light was, he bit anyway.

"You say that like it would somehow make me more attractive if I pulled something of that magnitude off."

There was a pause.

Light stared at the table. "…L, you've got to be joking."

"I'm a strange man, admittedly. The idea of you being capable enough to murder five men and entertain me at the same moment…the power of it is enticing."

"I'm hanging up now."

"No, you're not."

"Oh?"

"Not at all. I'm making you smile. I can _hear_ it."

He was. Light bit his tongue, rubbing his eyes as he forced the expression away and sighed. "When can I expect that computer?"

"It will likely arrive at your apartment before you do, all things considered."

Someone knocked on the glass, sharply, and Light cursed under his breath, shifting his phone to disconnect. "I have to go."

"…Very well. Be wise. Keep me informed."

"Soon." He closed the small machine and tucked it into his pocket just as the footsteps passed his door and paused at the next one. He eased back into his original stance, staring blithely at the mirror as though he didn't know what it was. The sound of raised voices echoed down the hall, two men obviously in disagreement about something of great importance…something that more than likely had to do with Light. It made that spark of irritation grow into full-blown annoyance. Talking to L had helped, but it still left him stuck at a table and waiting for these idiots to make their move. After seven hours staring at steel and _himself_, he was ready to damage someone.

Which of course, made the next few moment absolutely glorious…before he could move to acknowledge the door opening, the voices were suddenly in the _room_ with him, as Takimura shoved the heavy wooden panel open and threw Teru in by the shoulder. Light could only watch, tense, as the prosecuting attorney stumbled into the table and chair with a muttered curse. He hit the table hard enough that his glassed fell off and skidded into Light's elbow.

"You'll _go_ where I _tell_ you to go until you're cleared, do you understand me?" Takimura, bald spot glistening and cheeks red, hovered in the door as he delivered his ultimatum, one fist tight at the handle.

The other man, hair loose from his ponytail, was on his feet in less than a second, raising his voice in what Light found to be a rather undignified manner, but then again, he hadn't just been tossed around like a spare shirt, either…"I'm not one of your _dogs_, I represent the legal power that allows you to-"

"Shut up and _sit_ _down_!" Takimura was a bull, a vein working at his temple as he slammed the door after himself, and then a second door joined the chorus as he presumably entered the observation chamber.

Teru froze, taking a deep breath, then another, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger as Light often did when warding off stress or a headache. His long black hair was disheveled, his sleeves rolled up and tight, and his tie was missing. The picture of professionalism that he'd been only hours ago had begun falling apart along with the man himself. Light almost felt badly for him. Almost. When he spoke, his voice shook slightly in his anger, but it so low Light had to strain to make out what he was saying.

"I have every right to sue him. I should at least get him fired for that little stunt."

"Agreed." Light offered under his breath, watching the man with slightly narrowed eyes. Teru straightened, bracing an elbow on the table itself as his dark eyes swept it, searching for the elusive blur of his glass-frames. Light had a childish notion to knock them to the floor, but instead picked them up and offered them across the table. "What was that about us 'dogs'?"

"I pity you for…no, never mind," Teru snapped, plucking his glasses out of Light's fingers gingerly and inspecting them. "I forget that _he_ has to put up with _you_, too."

"Your unfounded animosity is grating." Light returned blankly, watching from across the table. "How did such a _charming_ man get a position as a lawyer?"

Teru peered at him, turning back in his chair to cross his arms on the table. "I _worked_ for it."

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke, content to exchange daggers over the table and hope that there was a second act to this pitiful ploy. Takimura had thrown them together for a reason, perhaps to watch the sparks fly and hope for something damning, but Light was content to be silent. He hadn't slept, after all, and neither of them were known for being overly…companionable, on a normal day. He merely stared the darker man down, amused by his attempt to be intimidating, because he dealt with _L_ on a regular basis and half of their _conversations_ were merely staring matches.

It was an interesting opportunity to read him. Light dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head as he watched his new companion with critical eyes. Teru remained forward on the table, an aggressive stance, but there was no mistake in Light's motion…he was there because he wanted to be there, and not because Teru convinced him to move away. It seemed to frustrate the lawyer, which was amusing in and of itself because this man spent the majority of his day behind a desk, while Light was out on the street. There was a single piece of gold in his pocket that ranked him higher than this man, without question, and yet Teru seemed convinced that…. "What did I do, again? To earn that look?"

He phrased it as a rhetorical question, and Teru lifted an eyebrow at him. "You don't respect anyone. Any of us."

"Any of who?"

"The people around you." Teru offered, mimicking Light's nonchalant pose. "You see us all as paper-pushers, tools for you to move your board around, and play your game."

The tool reference got his attention, but the rest of it was rather annoying. "I don't know you. At all. How can you claim anything about me when this is our…what, _fifth_ time even meeting in _person_?"

"It's written all over your face. The way you move, the way you _talk_." Teru put his fingertip to the steel. "I accomplish just as much as you do, just as well, with half your intelligence. So do a few others in the building. But you dazzle the rest them with your ability to do higher-level calculus in the _back_ of your _head_, and you're the brightest mind in the field."

He stared, unable to believe that this man's distaste for him strung purely from jealousy. Light did manage all of that, but he didn't have _work_ for it, like this man did, and that's what set him apart…it wasn't his fault, just a fortunate wiring of cells while he was developing in his mother's stomach. Teru seemed to be following his line of thought, because he smiled then, broadly, and it was almost startling to see the change it made in his features.

He was actually rather attractive. "I never said that my grudge made sense, just that I had one."

…Light caught himself and blinked slowly. He really was tired. He chuckled, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling and hope to God that he was mistaken in the _thought_, that just crossed his _mind_, because that was insane. How the hell had that-

Light was attractive too.

There was logic to be had here, somewher. Perhaps he'd been objectively analyzing the lawyer as he had himself before the other man's arrival, trying to piece together information about him. That nugget of truth must have just gotten caught up in the back of his thoughts, they tended to do that when he was…

God, he was getting repetitious. He shook his head slightly to clear it, and looked at the man again, his new focus in the forefront of his mind. Teru was a lawyer, what he could say about that…he was a good liar, had to be, knew how to read people, though perhaps not as well as Light himself and-

"Stop it. I won't give you anything." Teru smirked then, his voice quiet. "I know what you're doing, what that look means, and I'm telling you that it won't work."

_Almost_ as well as Light, the detective amended carefully within his own thoughts. He immediately put his mask back on, smirking slightly, caramel eyes as bright as possible when they wanted to do nothing more than close. There was a fine line of tension creeping up his frame, because people rarely challenged him like this, so bluntly. It was annoying. Teru merely licked his lips with a self-satisfied air, adding, "I notice you didn't deny any of my accusations."

"I didn't." Light replied. "They're mostly true. However, I am a rather agreeable person, for those who take the time to deal with me."

"_That_ isn't true." Teru waved his hand, a dismissive motion that stung Light's pride. "You use them to get things done, and being able to do so without convincing them it's slave-labor doesn't make you an 'agreeable person'. You just have a bad habit of being right, and usually a split-second faster than anyone else."

"You have an extremely pessimistic opinion of me."

"And you have an exaggerated opinion of yourself."

Light paused, and Teru turned to look over his shoulder at the mirror. It was…uncouth, decidedly, and unfair to both of them to bring this up when they were being watched, but he had nothing to hide…and Teru shouldn't either. At the very least, it would make him squirm. "We're not that different. You're every bit as arrogant as I am…and worse in some cases."

"You have no idea." Teru returned to meet his gaze and Light narrowed his eyes across the table, reading the man like a detective…like _L_, and not a coworker, or even a suspect. It made him uncomfortable, to see that plain shift of focus in Light' features, because the edge of confidence disappeared from his shoulders as he stared back. Light commanded that gaze, making no secret of the fact that he was thinking about the murders, and loudly, because soon Teru opened his mouth to protest, to shut him up, and Light cut him off-

"You're just like me. Coldly intelligent, attractive, willing to work for what you want, and step on people when necessary…the only difference is that you're shy."

Teru stared, uncomprehending, lips slightly parted and Light pushed his point. "You've always been shy, I'm guessing. Didn't like to raise your hand in class like I did, not as competitive. It's why we're in the same department, on separate floors, now. You don't like being seen, and you're quiet, and diligent, and no one notices you. That's why I bother you so much…I'm you, with a little more confidence. You're just as…powerful, you're just stuck in the shadows, unable to draw the attention you crave. It's why you goad me on, when we do talk, because you know I pay attention. I see you."

There was a pause here, while Light did another quick scan of his expression, but there were brittle edges that showed the truth of his statements as plainly as though Teru had nodded to each of them. His fists clenched behind his crossed arms, his glasses slipped and he made no move to correct them, though Light knew he could hardly see without them…he'd glanced through the lenses before handing them to lawyer before. Another piece of useless information, perhaps, but it was in his head now…

The man was tense, stiff, and Light wished he had the energy to be more eloquent about this, because he was sure he could scare him, if he wanted to. Light had been interrogating people for years, victims and suspects alike, and he was damn good at it.

Interrogation lay not in the words, but in the manner…just as _every_ basic form of human manipulation did. "And it _flatters_ you, that they think you might have killed those men."

His voice was quiet, and tight, and Light wondered if this was how L felt when he _teased_. "That's a _lie_."

Light shook his head, leaning to lace his fingers and watch him over the curve of his knuckles. He was moving a bit quickly perhaps, pushing too hard, too fast, but he wasn't wrong, and that was working to his advantage. Teru wanted attention, on some level or other, and it was increasingly obvious with every moment that passed that he was uncomfortable when it was finally given to him. The darker man took in his expression, brushed his hair out of his eyes, because it was true. It was _true_, and it was written all over his face, but the men behind the glass couldn't see that. Light did. He pressed a little deeper, sharpening his hooks. "It does. I know it does because it flatters _me_, and I _like_ attention. It must be amazing, to have so many people talking about you, watching your every move. You claim to accomplish as much as I do, without recognition, and right now, they're poring over your file, building an intimate history of Mikami Teru, and soon enough you'll be just as well known as I am."

"You're sick."

"I'm _right_. It's a…'bad habit', as you put it. And here's the thing." Light grinned, tapping the table in front of him, and trapping Teru's eyes with his own, because he might have chuckled, but he was _not_ laughing. "I _know_ that I didn't kill those men. I _don't_ know if you did or not. But you're enough like me that it worries me…it _concerns_ me, to think that the only leads they have are the two of us."

"…Enough like you. You think they deserved to die?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have put them in jail." Light supplied easily enough, and a kind of spark glimmered in Teru's eyes before it died again in the darkness. "However, I'm telling you now…that if you did, and you're trying to pin this case on me, I'm going to find out. And I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen to you, when I do."

Teru stared at him for a long moment, and Light didn't falter. He wasn't wrong, or Teru would have cut him off a lot faster than he did, become indignant or perhaps locked up entirely. Instead, he was as open as he'd ever been, meeting Light's eyes with a calm regard that belied any sane man being accused of murder. He was in a bad position, really, there wasn't much he could say at this point that Light couldn't use against him. He wasn't defensive however, and though Light waited, Teru seemed content to leave it at that.

God, he was so tired.


End file.
